


Lover's Curse

by beforeIlearnedcivility



Category: Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Deconstruction, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Humiliation, Jealousy, King's Cage - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mare doesn't fix Maven with her love I swear, Mare/Iris is the real OTP, Mind Games, Power Exchange, Self-Harm, Smut, Suicidal Ideation/Intent, Toxic Relationships, War Storm, We love Maven but he's trash, abuse/trauma, all the triggers, seriously these bitches don't even have a safe word, the bathtub scene but make it 45 thousand words, unhealthy BDSM dynamics, we should start calling them Maven cans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 29,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforeIlearnedcivility/pseuds/beforeIlearnedcivility
Summary: There are some things Mother will never understand.  I comfort her the rest of the morning, soothing her until her voice returns to normal.  I have become something new.I hope Mare has too._“I care.”  Tiberias outpaces me, and I bite back a scathing remark.  “He was talking to a person who didn’t exist.  You’re not alarmed by that?”“I’m not his keeper.”“You’re his wife.”“Not by choice.”  I’m going to enjoy drowning him.  “It’s bad enough we share a castle.  I will not share his problems.”_A dark, bitter laugh escapes my throat.  Lover.  As if Maven and I have ever approached love.  Loneliness.  Desperation.  Sorrow.  A void filled with the closest body, not healing, but deepening.  Love only to fools and beggars.To anyone else, we are a curse._Mare wasn't rescued by the Scarlet Guard.  She takes matters into her own hands.
Relationships: Mare Barrow/Iris Cygnet, Mare Barrow/Maven Calore, minor Mare Barrow/Tiberias "Cal" Calore VII
Comments: 136
Kudos: 86





	1. Empty Victories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Give a little, get a lot  
>  That's just how you are with love  
> \- Power and Control _by Marina and the Diamonds__

#### Mare

It is unusual for prisoners to be bridesmaids. It is unusual for brides to smile at women their grooms love. It is unusual for manacles to lurk beneath silk, to declare me an honored guest when my weakening frame has become impossible to hide.

But Maven has always had an unusual attachment to me.

Iris extinguishes his fire with a hiss, a smirk tugging her lips. Nymphs always triumph over Burners. It disappears once they kiss, however brief. Princesses do not marry for love.

Neither do kings.

He should know better than to look. He won’t like what he finds. But his eyes drift towards me anyway, as if there was no distance between us, as if Maven and I were the only people in the room.

What emotion would hurt the most? The hollow eyes of a broken promise. The benevolent smile of a girl who will never love him again. The stoicism of a disease that will rot him from the inside out.

I settle for an eye roll.

At my left, Evangeline chuckles. Her gown may gleam whiter than the bride’s, but she’s in no hurry to switch places. She nestles against her brother, razors of her dress brushing against his hand. I hope it draws blood.

Thunder booms. The air crackles with electricity, and everyone turns to stare at me. But this is not my storm.

In the distance, blue lightning cracks across the sky. Green joins it, striking closer. Iris raises her hands, droplets of water condensing and growing into a thin shield above the guests. A white bolt strikes it, sizzle brilliant as a wedding cake.

I want to taste it.

“I’ll take her.” Evangeline’s hand closes around my wrist. “You’ve never been good at combat, and you’ll do worse with a prisoner slowing you down.”

Maven hesitates, gaze lingering on her pearly white dress. “Let her go.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let her go.” He extends his hand, not to Evangeline, but to me. “She’ll slow _you _down, when we need you to fight these vermin. They won’t get their hands on her.” His palm clasps on mine like the lid of a tomb. “I will ensure it.”__

____

“With all due respect, Your Majesty.” Ptolemus joins his sister, inclining his head. “Your safety is our highest priority. I know you are a compassionate man--” I suppress a snort. “--and you don’t wish to endanger your subjects. But my sister and I are honored to serve, and it would pain us greatly were you harmed by a job which should have been ours.”

____

“Interesting.” Maven’s eyes narrow. “Would it pain you to know I’d be on the train already had you not argued with me? Release her. Or I’ll reconsider the placement of Samos in my court.”

____

A razor darts from Evangeline’s dress to his neck. “We don’t take orders from you.”

____

“Traitors.” His throat wobbles. “My brother will net you nothing, not honor, not riches, and certainly not a throne. Will this be your legacy?”

____

He cannot fight Evangeline and win. The rest of his entourage has fled, seeking the protection of Iris and her watery shield. I can finally be rid of him.

____

Unless Evangeline murders me.

____

I’ll take that chance.

____

More razors swoop at his neck, a noose of barbed wire. Maven doesn’t fight. He releases my hand, angling his own to the sky. No flames curl at his fingertips. Instead, he lets his sleeve fall, leaving his arm bare. At least, it should be.

____

The bracelet is brilliant. Strands of textured metal weave around a scattering of black jewels, catching light from every direction. Evangeline’s handiwork.

____

“Where did you get that?” The razors falter.

____

Maven feigns surprise. “This? Lovely piece, isn’t it? I was planning to gift it to my wife after the ceremony. Shame we were interrupted.”

____

“Where. Did. You. Get. It.”

____

“It doesn’t befit a prisoner to don something so lavish. Don’t tell my wife.” He winks. “She thinks it’s an ancient heirloom.”

____

“I will cut you.”

____

He clucks his tongue. “How violent. You ought to take some cues from that prisoner. She was so polite when we apprehended her this morning. No boasting. No threats. Such a nice girl. Elane, was it?”

____

“What have you done to her?” Evangeline whispers. Her razors draw dark silver blood, and I can’t look away.

____

“Samson is interrogating her as I speak, and I ordered him to dispose of her afterwards. Give me Mare, and I might arrive in time to save her.” Maven plucks a razor from his neck with a pained smile. “Tick tock.”

____

Metal presses against my throat. I never expected to see guilt and regret in Evangeline’s eyes, but she’s surprised me a lot these past weeks. “Follow him.”

____

“Burn in hell.” I stagger to his side.

____

“Long as you join me.”

____

“Joke’s on you. I’m already there.”

____

Evangeline retreats to the other side of the pavilion, but Maven doesn’t call after her. He slips his sleeve into place, eyes to the trains and arm at my side. “Come.”

____

I punch him in the face.

____

My fists don’t have the strength to harm him, but his shock is blow enough. I twist to the ground, springing to my feet, sprinting for the exit. Freedom. I can have freedom, if only my legs stay true.

____

They do not.

____

Something trips my foot and I sprawl onto the floor. Everything burns, aches, throbs and I want nothing more than the ground to swallow me. If I can’t have freedom, give me oblivion.

____

“Get up.”

____

Is this how I die?

____

“Don’t make me carry you.”

____

Let me die.

____

“Have it your way.” Arms slide beneath my knees and back, hesitating. I don’t move. The ground leaves me to the mercy of his arms, his hand gripping my shoulder, cradling me to his chest. Everything is fuzzy.

____

I think he wants to kiss me.

____

He carries me in silence, breath hot against my cheek. I will myself to become heavier, struggling and kicking, stiffening so I might slip to the ground.

____

Maven tightens his grip. “If you run, I’ll trip you again.”

____

So it was him.

____

“You’re mine.”

____

“I can never be yours.”

____

“Liar.” He stills, and I hear the whoosh of a door sliding open. “You already are.”

____

The train rushes forward, and I lurch to my feet. No. This can’t be it. I have to get out. I have to. The door won’t budge. The window won’t shatter.

____

I am trapped.

____

“Stop throwing yourself at the doors.” Maven tugs my elbow, and I realize I’ve jumped from his arms. “It’ll give you bruises.”

____

I wrench away. “You’d hate that, wouldn’t you?”

____

“Spite is the water of fools, Mare.”

____

“So long as you’re a fool with me.” I flail at the doors, but he holds me fast. “Let. Me. Go.”

____

“Not a chance.”

____

The landscape disappears into the distance, and I struggle for a few fruitless seconds until I give in and settle beside him. Maven hovers an arm around my shoulder, not quite touching. “No one will take you from me.”

____

“You’re married.”

____

His eyelids flutter. “I am.”

____

“Poor Iris.”

____

Maven pulls his arm away, and I catch another glimpse of his bracelet. Elane and I did not interact much, though it’s hard to imagine her beautiful face tortured by Samson. His whispers crawling through her brain, plucking information as he did mine. “She’s already dead, isn’t she?”

____

“Iris?”

____

“Elane.”

____

“Oh, darling,” Maven purrs. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

____

Samson was at the wedding.

____

“I found it in her chambers the night she fled with her house. I sensed Evangeline’s loyalties were wearing thin, so I brought some insurance.” He slips it from his wrist. “Such beautiful craftsmanship. If you want it, it’s yours.”

____

He doesn’t wait for a response.

____

The bracelet slides on with a clink, and I don’t have the energy to argue. Another mind game. Another empty victory for us to gnaw over, to gnash our teeth until the other obeys.

____

There’ll be plenty more to come.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the first half of Kings Cage so I wrote more of it.
> 
> If you were looking for a fic where Mare fixes Maven with her love, this is not that story. If you're looking for a fic where Maven's abuse and trauma don't matter because he is an irredeemable monster, this is not that story either.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Intent, Abuse, Trauma, Alcohol, Self-Harm, Sex, Dubious Consent, Toxic Relationships, Slutshaming, Pedophilic Undertones (Elara doesn't understand boundaries), Unhealthy BDSM Dynamics, Manipulation, Mind games, Mental Health, Codependency, Gaslighting, PTSD, justifications for abusive and toxic behaviors, Depression, Self-loathing, Grief, Sexual Coercion, humor about disturbing subjects and probably more I can't think of off the top of my head
> 
> Mild smut, but nothing too explicit. I'm a lesbian; I don't wanna think about dicks.
> 
> This fic gets pretty heavy, so feel free to put it down and take a break if you need to. At the end of the day, these characters are fictional and you are not. Take care of yourself.
> 
> I might make jokes about the topics I speak about, but rest assured I am taking them seriously. Humor and irony keep me sane.
> 
> It's deconstruction time, baby!
> 
> Eventual reconstruction but ssshhh I didn't tell you that
> 
> Updates every three days. I have about 45k written, maybe 2k left? I have to smooth some plot points in the back half.


	2. The Queen of Pawns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness_  
>  \- Somebody That You Used To Know _by Gotye_

#### Mare

They didn’t save me.

__

I stare listlessly at the food on my plate. My arvens brought it to me an hour ago, muttering curses after I shattered the accompanying glass. If only they missed a shard.

__

Maven is always near me now, perched at the doorway or pacing at the window. He almost lost me. He already lost his mind. And if I play my cards right, he’ll lose his war, his throne, and his life.

__

Empty victories.

__

“Eat.”

__

I burrow under the covers, closing my eyes. Hunger gnaws my insides, but it doesn’t move me. My bones ache, my heart cries, my blood burns. What’s another layer of pain, if it will make it all end?

__

_“Eat.” ___

____

__

__

“Choke on Farley’s boot.”

__

__

__

“Eat or I will make you.” He rips the blanket away. “You’re not dying.”

__

__

__

I screech, cackling, shrieking, and sobbing as he clutches his ears. “That’s great. Tell another.”

__

__

__

_“You’re not dying.” ___

_____ _

__

_____ _

“Oh, colors.” I wheeze. “Too good. You’re killing me, Maven. You’re kill--”

_____ _

__

_____ _

He pulls me against his chest, trembling. “I’ll hold you down if I have to. I’ll hold you against the wall and force you to chew and swallow until I trust you will do it without me. Is that what you want?”

_____ _

__

_____ _

“I’m so fragile. You’d probably break me.”

_____ _

__

_____ _

He grips me tighter. “Samson. Don’t make me--”

_____ _

__

_____ _

“Do it. I fucking dare you.” I haul him down until our noses touch, until he has nowhere to look but my eyes. “Let a whisper into my head again. Let him scrape into my mind until I can’t tell what is him and what is me. Let him turn me into a walking corpse. Sound familiar?”

_____ _

__

_____ _

I’ve never seen him cry before.

_____ _

__

_____ _

“Please.” He traps me in his gaze. “Don’t do this.” Tears splatter onto my cheek. “Don’t kill yourself to spite me. You’re worth so much more than that.”

_____ _

__

_____ _

I want to throw the words back at him. He’s bled all the worth out of me. Why shouldn’t I kill myself?

_____ _

__

_____ _

I’m killing myself.

_____ _

__

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I’m killing myself.

_____ _

__

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I’m killing myself.

_____ _

__

_____ _

_HOLY SHIT I’M KILLING MYSELF ___

_______ _ _ _

__

_______ _ _ _

Why am I framing this as his victory? I’m sure he’ll be very sad, but I’ll be dead. Dead! I won’t see my family. I won’t see Cal. I won’t get to watch Maven suffer, so _why the hell am I doing this? ___

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

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My life is my own. No one can take it from me.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Not even myself.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

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My body shakes, and I lunge for the fork. I don’t taste the food before swallowing, nearly choking in my haste. Hungry. Colors, I’m hungry.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Maven backs away to the door, fumbling for the handle. “Get some rest.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

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I give him the finger.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

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He leaves, and I scream, so loud my Arvens tell me to shut up. I polish off the rest of the plate, regretful I spurned the water.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

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I shatter it against the wall.  
_

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__

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I eat.

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__

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I sleep

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__

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I count 823 ceiling tiles.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

I don’t stare at the door and will him to enter. I don’t imagine conversations with him, examining what pieces of him I’ve gathered to predict his reactions. I don’t want to know where he is, what made him lose interest and condemn me to rot.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

I can’t be that desperate.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Screw it. I am.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“Hey, Egg.” I tap the shoulder of the nearest Arven. “How do I request a visit from His Majesty?”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“My name is--”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“I don’t care.” I try to channel Mareena Titanos, but my voice is too hoarse and flimsy. “I would like an audience with Maven Calore. He won’t object, I’m positive.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“You’re a prisoner. He’s a king.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“What’s your point?”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

He sighs. “Fine. Don’t whine to me if he refuses.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“I probably will.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

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“Bitch.” He skulks away, disappearing.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

It doesn’t take long for footsteps to come, halting and unsteady. Maven creaks the door open. “What do you want? I have a meeting in twenty minutes.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“I’m bored. Entertain me.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

He grits his teeth. “Mare, if boredom is your biggest problem--”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“My biggest problem’s the searing agony of dying from silent stone, but I’ve accepted you’re not gonna anything about that, soooo . . . “

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Maven stills. “How about chess?”  
_

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“That move’s illegal.” Maven moves my rook to its previous position. “As I’ve said fifteen times. Really, Mare. I expect better cheating from you.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“Says you.” I fold my arms. “There’s no way I lost twelve games.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“Says the rules.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“You set the rules on fire!”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“They were bone-dry! I couldn’t help it.” He makes a face. “Like _you’ve _never incinerated a rulebook before.”__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I guarantee I haven’t.” I slide my bishop six spaces, knocking his queen over.

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“That’s ill--”

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“No. _No.” I snatch his queen from the board, scowling. “You’re messing with me. Bishops move on a diagonal. You not liking it doesn’t make it cheating.”__

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I’m king. It’s illegal if I say so.” Colors, he’s insufferable.

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I chortle. “Only knaves cheat at casual games. Also, you lose.” I mark the first tally under my name, giddy. “I stole your king.”

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Maven glances down at the board, corner piece suddenly absent. “Excuse me?”

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I plucked it while I grabbed your queen. My queen now, I suppose.”

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He extends a hand. “Another round?”

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“As long as you stop lying about the rules.”

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

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“Me? Lie?” Maven puts a palm to his chest, laughing. _“Never.” ___

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__

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

We trade captured pieces back to each other, one eye to the board and another on our opponent as we reset. This isn’t fun. It’s unpleasant, frustrating, anxious to a near unbearable degree. But there’s a thrill, a richness to sparring with him, and the recognition unsettles me.

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“My birthday’s coming up.”

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You’ll be one year closer to death. An event worth celebrating.”

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__

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He moves his pawn two spaces ahead. “Did you get me anything?”

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I slide mine one space. “I have so many opportunities to go shopping.”

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

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“Were you worried about money? The Crown will cover it.” A few moves, and he claims my pawn. “It’s the thought that counts. Mull it over a few days, and tell the guards what you have in mind. Make it good.”

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__

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My knight leaps over my pawn to claim his. “What.”

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__

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“You said you were bored.”

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__

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“Bored, not masochistic.” Another pawn falls to his rook. “That’s your business.”

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__

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“A business we share. C’mon.” His expression turns mischievous, unwavering as my bishop claims his rook. “It’s an opportunity to show your affection.”

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__

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“Would a gold plaque labeled ‘Fuck you’ be too much?”

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__

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His queen enters the board. “How tame. You’re more creative than that.”

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__

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“Am I?” My pawns chase his queen across the board. “Considering how often you visit me, I assumed I’d grown dull.”

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__

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Pieces cluster around his king. “Never.”

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__

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I don’t have a chance to respond. The door opens as his queen claims my bishop, and Iris pokes her head in. “There you are. You had a meeting four hours ago, and you never showed up. I had to conduct in your place.”

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__

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Maven jolts. “Four hours? That can’t be right.”

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__

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“You were also to discuss war strategy with your generals, which you never did.” Iris steps closer. “Furthermore, there are two large stacks of documents on your desk which require your signature. Do you expect me to run this country by myself?”

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__

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I sweep his side of the board, king in hand. “I win.”

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__

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Iris twitches. “Do not tell me you were playing a child’s game.”

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__

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Hey, now.” I put up a hand. “It’s a very sophisticated, super mature--”

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__

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“I’m allowed the occasional break.” Maven packs the pieces in the box, barely looking at me. “I’ve been overworking myself for weeks. I needed a few hours to unwind.”

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__

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“A few hours?” Her gaze flickers to me. “Hm. Children do love to play with their pets.”

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__

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His hand lingers on my glass. “She’s not a pet.”

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__

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“Would you rather I called her your whore?”

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__

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It shatters.

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__

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There was no malice in her eyes, no jeer to her tone. Iris is not Evangeline Samos, not Elara Merandus, nor even Diana Farley. “Would you? I find it crass, but men have strange tastes. Especially you.”

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__

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“I would rather you called her nothing at all.”

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__

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Iris takes my hand, curtsying. “Nice to meet you, Nothing-At-All.”

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__

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Maven grits his teeth, stepping into the hallway. “I have business to attend to.”

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__

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She doesn’t follow. With a hand, water sweeps across the floor, gathering all the glass shards in a sphere of pain. “So it has teeth after all.”

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__

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No anger. No hostility. No hatred.

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__

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I’ve never met a person more terrifying.

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Iris chuckles. Then she leaves, taking the shattered glass with her.

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__

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I did not intend to make Maven neglect his duties. I did not consider how busy his schedule must be, how many hours it must take to run a country. But now there is a tension between him and Iris.

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__

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I forged this alliance. I can make it burn.

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__

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	3. This is War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Think of me in the depths of your despair  
>  Make a home down there as mine sure won't be shared_  
> \- Rolling in the Deep _by Adele_

#### Mare

I call him in the evening.

____

He appears within minutes, silent as a cat. Annoyed as one, too. “I hope you’re happy. Had to spend most of the day cleaning up after that stunt you pulled last night.”

____

“Didn’t realize you were that busy.” I trace the dent his shattered glass made in the table. “Does the country shut down every time you take a nap?”

____

“What do you want?”

____

“Freedom, lightning, Cal, my family, equality, hope, justice, a body that isn’t on the precipice of death . . .” I count on my fingers. “Could you fetch me a pen?”

____

“Fetch it yourself.”

____

“Someone’s grumpy. Are you up for another game, or are your nights busy too?”

____

“I’ll have to check.” Maven smirks. “My nights might be _quite _busy. I’m a married man, you know.”__

____

____

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“If you're trying to make me jealous, it isn't working.”

____

____

____

“Chess again?” He settles across from me, fishing his queen from the box. “Victory is sweet, but it does become tedious.”

____

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I raise an eyebrow. “Maven Calore. Is that cowardice I smell?”

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“Your nose isn’t working. Are you ill?”

____

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“I’m sick of your dawdling.” I set up the board. “Prepare to be demolished.”

____

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We spar for an hour, trading insults and chess pieces like childhood best friends. Kilorn’s face floats in my brain, and a lump rises in my throat. Does he miss me? Has the monster supplanted the girl from the Stilts?

____

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I’ll never know.

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____

“Haven’t seen Samson lately. Must be too busy to appear in the courtyard.” Fear creeps into my voice. “Was there a lost battle I didn’t learn about?”

____

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Maven claims my rook. “He didn’t return after the wedding.”

____

____

____

“Testing out a replacement, huh? Or was he the last Merandus?”

____

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“How morbid.” Maven moves his bishop from the reach of my knight, overlooking the pawn a square below. “Delay does not mean death. He might’ve tracked down Evangeline, and is coming so we might put her on trial. Or her brother.” His lips curve. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

____

____

____

I would. Shade’s death still smarts like an acid burn, and anger is wont to dance with pain. Let Ptolemus feel how he felt.

____

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I never want to feel again.

____

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“If we capture him, I’ll let you decide his fate.” Maven leans forward, hungry. “Consider it a token of my affection.”

____

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“How optimistic. You assume I’ll live that long.”

____

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That shuts him up.

____

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My pawn closes the trap, eliminating his bishop. “What’s it like?”

____

____

____

“Hmm?”

____

____

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“Fucking Iris.”

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Maven chokes. “We--we don’t use that term.”

____

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“What do you call it, then? Procreation? Intercourse?” I stare into his eyes, unfazed. “You Silvers love sucking joy from life.”

____

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He avoids my gaze. “Marital duties.”

____

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“That’s worse.” I snort. “I’ve never heard two words more miserable.”

____

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“It’s not supposed to be fun. Marriage is the unification of families. And families require children.” Maven darts his queen down the board. “However unpleasant the process.”

____

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“You’re such a romantic.”

____

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“I’m a king. I’ve no need for romance.”

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My pawn dashes his queen to bits. “Damn. Iris’s been having a bad time.”

____

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He stiffens. “We haven’t started.”

____

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“Why not?” I dangle his queen. “She’s beautiful. Strong. Confidant. I bet she knows how to have fun. If I were you, I’d go for it.”

____

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“Checkmate.” He doesn’t look at me.

____

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I snatch his wayward rook. “That’s illegal.”

____

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“I have business to attend to.”

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“Cheat and leave. What a gentleman.”

____

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“You’re no lady.” He prepares to exit, but my hand snags his. “Blonos couldn’t work miracles.”

____

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“Neither can you.”

____

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“Why are you asking?” Maven leans closer. “It bothers you, doesn’t it? Enrages you. Her hands where yours should be.” He caresses my jaw. “Are you worried my affection for you will fade? Because that will never happen.” His breathing grows ragged. “No matter how much I want it to.”

____

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“If you attach to her, I can die in peace.”

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He draws back. “Fair enough.” I try to ignore the hurt creeping into his voice. “I understand the sentiment, no matter how unlikely.” He leaves.

____

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Another wedge between him and Iris.

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I may have poked where I shouldn’t have, but he won’t guilt me. He won’t make me regret this. Maven can look as forlorn as he pleases, but I’m not falling for it. I won’t let another tear fall.

____

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This is not love.

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This is war.

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____


	4. Marital Duties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Was it really worth it?_  
>  Did I really deserve it?  
> \- Living Dead _by Marina and the Diamonds_

#### Maven

Twenty minutes. Bear it for twenty minutes, and move on to more important matters. 

____

_They’ll gossip if you don’t. _Mother’s claws scrape against my cranium, digging into wounds not yet scabbed over. _They’ll think you weak, too smitten with a rat to conduct your duties. Prove yourself a Silver. _____

_____ _

____

_____ _

_Do not disappoint. ___

_______ _ _ _

____

_______ _ _ _

The whiskey scorches my throat as I down another glass. I never drink outside of parties, intent on keeping my senses sharp and my mind sharper. But I need more boldness than I can muster on my own.

_______ _ _ _

____

_______ _ _ _

_Weak. ___

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____

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Will she be like this all night?

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____

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I throw back another glass.

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“That’s a lot of alcohol.” Iris holds the bottle to the light, sloshing the meager liquid left in the bottom. “What’d Mare say this time?”

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“To mind your own business,” I snarl. “Your room. 8 o’clock. Let’s get this over with.”

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She stills. “Get what over with?”

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____

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“We’ve been avoiding it all week. Let’s rip the bandage off.” I snatch another bottle of liquor from the shelf, shoving it into her arms. She raises a brow. “What? You wanna do this sober?”

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____

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Iris shakes her head. “Fine. Try not to drink yourself to death.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

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If only.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

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She leaves, and I stare into my glass. In another life, I might look forward to this. If Mare had taken my hand, let me lead her out the prison cell and to the altar. But this is not that life.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

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Iris is curvier, with darker hair and silver eyes. But they are the same height, the same age, both warriors of muscled limbs and bronze skin. If it is night, if I squint, perhaps I can pretend.

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____

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_You have a Silver queen, and still you crave a rat. ___

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

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There are times I wish I could murder Mother.

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_

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This was a bad idea.

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I stagger into Iris’s chambers, trembling. Mother was last to occupy them. I can’t bear to see her remnants, but I can’t bear to see her erased. Either way, she will haunt our coupling.

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____

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_Pain makes you strong. ___

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Shut up.

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____

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Heat squeezes my limbs in a painful embrace, like a thousand needles plunged into my skin at once. Is this how it feels to burn? The bed dips in and out of focus, but I find myself next to my wife, who is not Mare and Will Never Be Mare. Is this how it feels to be branded?

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I never want to know.

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____

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She doesn’t look at me, tracing the curve of her breasts beneath her nightdress. “Mother said it would be easier if I’m aroused. Less painful.”

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____

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“I hadn’t considered that. Should I leave, while you, um . . . ?”

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____

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Iris shakes her head. “Too much of a hassle. Besides.” She turns to me, and I wish she hadn’t. “You may be a monster, but you certainly aren’t hideous.”

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____

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“Is this how you flirt? It isn’t working.”

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“I’m seducing myself, not you.”

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This is wrong. Her voice is too even, too lyrical, her eyes too soft and grey. Iris has too much sense to pin me against a wall, to pull my hair and bite my neck. She will not speak my language of pain.

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She will never make me feel alive.

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_Foolish. ___

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Then let me be a fool.

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____

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I lunge from the bed to the door as Mother shrieks, raking white hot claws across my vision. Iris jolts, clutching the bedpost in her silk nightgown. “What are you doing?”

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“Pardon. Do you wish to continue?”

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“No.” She retreats to her covers. “I do not.”

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I race through the halls, desperate to outrun the phantom hands sliding over my body. Tears and whiskey flood my veins, leak from my face. My vision blurs. Poison, all of them--Iris, Mother, Mare. Sweet Mare. My Mare. My only Mare.

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I can’t bear this.

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Her chambers are locked, but the guards do not deny me. She’s in her nightgown, violet velvet on lace, combing through a book thicker than a pillow. Beautiful.

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____

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She glances up at me. “I got so bored, I started reading about your tax code. At this rate, I’ll be a lawyer in my thirties.”

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I want to cry. “At this rate, I’ll _need _a lawyer in my thirties.”__

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“Hey, I didn’t say I’d be a competent one.”

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I only laugh when I’m with her. “Competence is boring.”

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____

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Mare closes the book, tossing it underneath her bed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Speaking of which . . . “ She studies me. “You’ve been crying. Why?”

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“You.” The word slips out. “I mean--I--Marital duties. With Iris.”

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“Oh.”

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I don’t wanna leave.

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_You must. ___

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I won’t go back.

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____

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_Son. Do not test me. ___

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“Can I stay here tonight?”

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She stills.

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“We don’t have to do anything. I just--” My eyes water. “Could I hold you? I wanna hold you for I--I don’t know how long. Let me get the poison out. Please.”

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_You are a fool. ___

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I am.

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Mare hesitates, nodding. “Fine. Don’t try anything.”

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____

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I slip next to her, and her breath quickens. What are we doing? I do not belong in this bed. I belong in my empty hollow, fit for a boy pruned and twisted until his shape is foreign. One with no room for another.

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_You have me. ___

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____

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A brief touch of the manacle, and there is silence, sweet silence. Mare’s eyes find mine, pinning me in place. There are lines I won’t cross.

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____

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But I want to.

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____

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Her face is filtered by moonlight and alcohol, haloed in gold. I want to lose myself in her lips, her flesh, her moans. I don’t move.

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____

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She sighs. “Is this a staring contest?”

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____

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I graze her shoulders. “Are you sure?”

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____

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“I have no idea what I’m doing.” Mare tucks herself into my chest, my hands fluttering against her back. “I can’t leave you like this.”

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“You should. I deserve it.”

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____

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“Add shame to my guilt, that’s real helpful.”

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____

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“I’m sorry.”

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____

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“You’re never sorry.” She burrows into my shirt, and it becomes wet with tears. “You don’t say those words. Stop it. Stop lying.”

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____

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“I don’t have the energy to lie. I barely have energy to think.” My laughter turns to sobs. “Why do people think? Why do they plot and scheme for things that poison them? Why do they scorn the ones they love until it’s too late?”

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____

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I didn’t expect her to kiss me.

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____

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We’ve kissed before, but never like this. Not in her bed. Not when I’m drunk. Not as a kaleidoscope, dizzying and wondrous, my head pounding from the intensity. She’s destroying me from the inside out. 

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____

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And I’m enjoying it.

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____

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“Stop apologizing.” Mare traces the planes of my face. “It won’t make it better.”

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____

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“It won’t. We’ve never made anything better.” Her touch warms my freezing forehead. “We only destroy.”

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____

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Another kiss, deeper than the last. Deep as an abyss, forever falling in darkness, but I would rather fall with her than be on ground alone. She clutches my shirt as if she could claw through bone. “You’re destroying me. Do I destroy you?”

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____

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“You should.”

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____

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“Say it.” Her tongue flicks my ear, and I shiver. “Say you want me to destroy you. Say you can’t think of anything else. Say I live in your head as much as you do mine.” Fingers prod my lips. “I’m waiting.”

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____

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My grip tightens. I stroke her chin, forcing her gaze level with my eyes. My heart quivers, but so does she. “Destroy me.”

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____

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“I can.” Mare pins me beneath her, breath hitching. “And I will.”

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____

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Neither of us speak for the rest of the night. Neither of us speak as our bodies slide together, then apart, betrayal slicing our insides. Neither of us speak as we untangle, her to sleep and me to my empty bed of broken dreams.

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____

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We might never speak again.

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____

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	5. Eleanora and Rosalie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You are not like the regulars  
>  The masquerade revelers  
> Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten  
> \- mirrorball _by Taylor Swift__

#### Mare

She comes during one of my pathetic exercise attempts, chuckling as I fumble and strain my wasted muscles into a split. Her training uniform is sleek, contouring to a body that has never known hunger or decay. “It’ll be easier if you use your palms to balance.”

“It’ll be easier without these manacles,” I snap. “Why are you here?”

“Privacy.” Iris mimics my exercises, her stretching lithe and graceful.

“I’m here. As are the guards. And the cameras.” I wave at a corner. “Though they never talk. Either they’re shy, or I’m exceptionally boring. Bet it’s the former.” I raise my voice. “Hey Egg! How’s the skullcap doing?”

He grunts. “My name’s--”

“Still don’t care.” I turn to Iris. “Like I said, shy.”

“Privacy from Maven.”

“Fair.” I bend to the side, groaning. “He’ll never look for you here.”

“He was in your room last night.” Her tone is not reproachful, not jealous. If anything, she seems amused. Iris has no more love for Maven than I do.

“Unfortunately. He’s a blanket hog.”

She snorts. “So am I.”

“Glad we don’t share a bed, then.” I flop on the ground. “Though I’d love to see the look on his face if we did.”

“Would you do it?”

I choke. “What.”

“Sleep with someone to spite him.”

“Oh.” I shake my head. “He would incinerate them. I don’t wanna live with that on my conscience.”

Next to me, Iris begins push ups. “Don’t get caught.”

The muscles of her back ripple as she lowers herself to the ground. Her tattoos are on full display, and I’m close enough to appreciate the finer details, the soft shading, the overlapping textures, the tiny brushstrokes. “When did you get them?”

She halts. “Pardon?”

“Your tattoos.”

Iris slides to her feet. “I was fourteen. As for why . . . ” She chuckles. “It’s a long story.”

“Shame. I have such a busy schedule.”

“It was years ago. There’s no guarantee I can tell it well.” She traces her hand, smiling into the distance. “But if you insist. They took a lot of time and pain, but I’m proud to bear them. Nothing is beautiful as a painting made flesh.” She bids me to stand. “Though my sister makes miracles of canvas.”

Sister. Gisa’s handkerchief is stowed beneath my pillow, out of sight, but not reach. If I had talents other than destruction, I could have left something for her.

“Paintings, huh?” I keep my face neutral. “Do you have a favorite?”

Iris chuckles. “Don’t make me choose. Besides, most go unfinished.” She stares into the distance. “Tiora has a habit of losing focus.”

“So do you. Weren’t we talking about tattoos?”

“I must have been twelve. We have Silver houses in the Lakelands, though they go by different names. Yours are Arvens.” She flicks a hand in their direction. “Ours are Vides.

“They were always at court, but never all at once. They would cycle through members every season, ensuring Tiora and I would know the names and faces of our subjects. This Vide was a woman old as Mother, with crimson hair and dusky skin.” Iris studies my face, and I try not to think of Gisa. “Her name was Eleanora.

“Eleanora had little patience for me and Tiora, complaining the country would crumble if it ever fell in our hands.” A wry smile. “We tattled to Mother, of course. She laughed, pat our heads, and chided us for cowardice.

“One day, I caught a glimpse of her back. It had ink on it, and as I drew closer, I realized it formed an image. She noticed me staring, but rather than scolding me, she laughed.” Iris hums. “I couldn’t stop staring. I knew I wanted one of my own, so I asked her how she got it.

“She said her lover had drawn it for her. That if I wanted one so badly, I should ask for Rosalie Nonne.”

Iris looks at me like the name should strike a chord. “I don’t know her.”

“Of course you don’t. She didn’t exist.” Iris laughs. “I searched the nobles, the merchants, the guards, all who could be a Vide’s lover, for two years, and I never found anyone named Rosalie Nonne. Eleanora must have laughed so hard.

“When I was fourteen, I gave up and confronted her. It was quite a sight. I don’t anger often, but when I do, I make the ground shake.” Iris winks at me, and I bristle. “Eleanora rolled her eyes and shoved me to the door. I was looking in the wrong place.

“Rosalie was a Red.”

Iris pauses, and I roll my eyes. “Is that supposed to impress me? Humans make amazing art. Red or otherwise.”

She twitches. “That night, Tiora drew the most splendid painting, inspired by a whirlpool she had glimpsed a week ago. I begged her to forge a copy for my birthday, and together we ventured into the Red part of the city.

“I found her in a Red slum where she did charity work.” Iris flourishes her back, and I wonder how many she’s told this to. “It was torture to ink, but I was ready for the pain. I will always be ready.”

I yawn. “I love how concise you are.”

Iris returns to her sit ups, but I’ve given up on joining her. There’s no point. No point in pretending I can stay in shape. No point in fishing for information I can’t use.

“Your gods. How do you know they’re real?”

She pauses. “I can feel them. When I pray, they don’t respond with words, but I can feel a heavenly presence, a soothing calm, and I know they’ve heard me. I may not understand their judgments, but I know they are there.”

Feelings. Not words. Not proof. A desperation to make sense of the world, and find peace where none should exist. “What are their names?”

“They have none.”

“No names?” I stare at the ceiling. “How do you recognize them?”

“They are gods. They do not need us to know them to conduct their business.” Iris kneels her head. “They have their ways. Their reasons. We interpret what we have, but only a fool would claim to know them.”

“Hmm.” It can’t hurt to try. “Can you show me how to pray?”

Iris intertwines her fingers, staring at the ceiling with closed eyes. “Open your mind and ask for them. That’s all it takes.”

We sit in silence, and I close my eyes, searching for the peace she described. But there is only darkness.

“Did you like my story?”

Iris looks at me expectantly, and I suppress a laugh. “I liked the part about your sister.”

“Lovely, isn’t it?” She smiles. “Be lovelier if it were true.”

I jolt.

“I had a marvelous time chatting with you.” Iris smirks from the doorway. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“Awfully elaborate story for a lie.” I don’t blink. “You must have a lot of free time.”

She wavers. “Perhaps.”

Busted.

“Oh, and Iris?” She halts, door on the precipice of closing. “You’re a good liar. But Maven is a master. I wouldn’t recommend lying to him.” I chuckle. “That’s my job.”

Iris doesn’t respond, but I could’ve sworn I saw her smile.


	6. Phantom Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _It's time we danced with the truth_  
>  \- Sober _by Lorde_
> 
> I recommend you listen to the song for the full effect. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvgigkaSCZA

#### Mare

Maven’s touch flares anew after Iris exits, gentle, warm, and rancid. I scrub my flesh, but he never leaves. His hands ghost over my skin, everywhere a tentative kiss, a hesitant nip. His sadness spills into me and onto the floor, and I’ll never forget the look in his eyes as he begged me to stay.

Traitor.

Filthy traitor.

I sit in the shower an hour more. Steam my nostrils. Lather my skin. He’s in my head, and he’s never coming out. I scrub my arm until it bleeds.

The healer doesn’t ask how I hurt it.

There’s a new tension to our nightly sessions. Maven stays later and later, never asking, always lingering longer than he should. He knows it’s a bad idea. He knows he’s picking at a wound. It doesn’t stop him.

He looks like a corpse. Acts like one. He stumbles through the day on less and less sleep, to my delight and Iris’s dismay. She comes when he does not, pacing, ranting, thankful to be with the one other person who can get away with insulting him. So many mistakes for her to undo.

He keeps coming.

Maven slumps onto my desk, breathing softly. Moonlight washes the cruelty from his face, Merandus eyes hidden from view. Dark lashes nestle in the crook of his cheek. If I didn’t know better, I’d think him gentle.

I used to.

My eyes flicker towards him despite myself. His arms can’t make a comfortable pillow, especially not against hard wood. He’ll wake with as many aches and pains as I do.

That night, I kissed those lids. I bade him lie as he does now and kissed away his tears, destroyed them until he had no more left to cry. But grief can always dig a new well.

I don’t wanna see this.

He wakes under a blanket, surrendered from my newly-bare bed. His eyes flicker from it to me. “I’m never cold. You shouldn’t have.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You must have been freezing.” Maven tugs the blanket from his frame, shoving it my direction. “Take it. Please.”

“Keep it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I don’t want it anymore,” I snap. “You’ve touched it.”

He stills. I can’t read the emotions in his eyes, the memories I have stirred. I don’t want to. His eyes linger on the floor. “I’ve touched you.”

Neither of us speak as he exits.

* * *

I find them folded atop my bed, nestled beneath a note and a misshapen bottle. _Hand sanitizer _,__ a label tells me, along with instructions for use. ___In case I touch you again.___

The substance stinks as I lather my fingers, but I don’t care. I don’t care how painful the words must have been to write. I don’t care how soft the new blankets are, tightly woven with fleece and silk worth several years’ wages.

His hands finally leave. The rest of him does not.

* * *

My ribs hurt when I wake. The Skonos that attends me now is not as skilled as Wren, though even she had trouble erasing all my aches and creaks. I’ve aged 50 years in six months, and the morning threatens to add another ten.

If I must die, I’m taking him with me.

Summerton is aflutter today, servants whispering amongst each other in the halls. My Arvens will not let me close enough to listen, so I content myself with the glimpses I catch through my window. A victory? A defeat? A betrayal?

Maven visits me at nightfall, darkness clinging to his frame. _The Shadow Prince _,__ he once called himself, and the title is fitting. None are as wasted, as haunted, as desperate to attach and never let go.

None but me.

“Make it quick. You’re cutting into my sleep.” I huddle under my blankets, scowling. “Am I allowed sleep? Are you claiming it as yours now?”

He settles at the foot of my bed, unfazed. “My cousin has returned. And he was thoughtful enough to bring a gift.”

“I don’t want any gifts.”

“How self-centered.” He shakes his head. “The gift was for me, Mare.”

“‘ _Me, Mare. _’”__ My voice is high and mocking. “You’re stealing my name too?”

Maven ignores me. “It was in very good taste. Samson is interrogating him as we speak.” He chuckles. “There must not have been time on the journey.”

I stiffen.

“I’m deciding on a date for his execution. It’s a delicate window. Time enough to stir excitement, but not so long to risk escape.” He strokes his chin. “And of course, time enough to torture him with dread.”

My blanket is poor protection from him and his horrible words. I tug it over my head, smothering my ears with the pillow. Don’t say his name. Don’t say his name.

Fingers poke between the fabric, and my nerves stand on end. They never reach me, but they linger on the outskirts, taunting, teasing. He won’t touch me. He’s too much of a coward, scared what he might discover.

He should be scared.

Maven lifts the blanket enough to peer inside, eyes blue, hollow, and dark as whirlpools. “You weren’t friends. You didn’t trust each other. You never confided in him, never acknowledged his pain. Why should Cal mean anything to you?” He softens. “I know you far better.”

My hands clasp around his wrists, pushing him to the nearest wall. His flamemakers chafe against my palms. Good. He won’t be able to reach for them.

The blanket binds us together, and I press closer. His breath comes in heady pants. Something pulsates like a spark catching fire, the beat of his heart. “Do you think you know me, Maven?”

“I know what you’ve become.”

“Do you?” My hands tangle his hair, forcing his head back and beneath mine. “Do you know what I’m capable of? Do you know--” He shivers. “How much I want to hurt you?”

His eyes glaze. “Pull harder.”

“I don’t take orders from you.” I bite his neck, savoring the hard bone beneath his supple flesh. If only his blood bruised as easily as mine.

“You should.” A hand glides through my hair and rests at my waist. “Your life would be easier. Less painful.”

“And you’d be happier.” My voice is gentle as wisteria on a moonlit night, gentle as our breaths mixing as I brush my lips against his. “Fuck that. Burn for me.”

His stare swallows me whole, and I’m drowning in him, all of him, the abused child, the monster, the shadow of the flame. His gentle hands. His bitter tears. His scorching tongue.

“As long as we burn together.”

I rip his shirt open, each button a shield my wrath scorches away. There will be no more layers between us. He discards it, and before I know it, I’m lying underneath him. His fingers tease the hem of my blouse, rolling it upwards with tortuous slowness.

He wants me to watch. To know that however much I hurt him, he’s taking from me too.

“I love it when you’re angry.”

“I’ll love it when you’re dead.”

Maven chuckles. “You’re a terrible liar.”

I seize his hands, rolling until I’m on top. My shoulders are bare but for my bra straps, and I nibble his ear. “I could kill you. I could wrap my hands around your pretty neck and squeeze until you burst.” I unclasp his flamemakers. “Would you let me?”

He hesitates.

“That’s what I thought.” I glide a hand over his cheek. “Let me see your eyes.”

Maven complies, nestling his fingers in my hair as he gives me a misty, half-lidded gaze. One designed to hurt.

“Close them.”

He jolts. “What?”

“You heard me. Close your eyes, and keep them closed. I don’t want you to see what I’m doing to you.” I smirk. “If you like something, you better scream.”

“So long as you close your mouth,”

I still. “I--”

“None of that,” he murmurs against my lips. “If you agree, nod.”

Maven enjoys me flustered and angry, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction. I guide his fingers past my remaining layers to my core, not flinching, not twitching, immovable as stone. Heat flares as he presses. “No talking. But moaning is appreciated.” His forehead gleams with sweat. “Spread your legs for me, Mare.”

I clench them shut.

Maven growls, pulling away. Our limbs entangle, snared in a web of our own making. I pin him down, and his eyelids flutter. “Close,” I whisper.

He obeys.

My hips rock against his, rough and sudden. He swears, neck arching, straining to regain control. I press harder, but make no move to unzip. My fingers trace letters at his throat. _B. E. G._

“No.”

_Beg._ Teeth tear bruises on his cheeks to match those under his eyes. He’s right. I do know his face better than Cal’s. I will make it unrecognizable.

Maven pants, skin flushed with arousal, lips parted, squirming in a puddle of tangled limbs and sweat. His lashes slide open again, and my tongue caresses his ear. “I told you to scream if you like something.”

“Mare.” A whisper. “Mare, please. I--” A hitch. “I can’t bear it any longer.”

I nuzzle his throat. “Bear what?”

“Mare.” Hands grip my cheeks, blood thrumming as he forces my gaze to his. “Fuck me.”

I still.

“Fuck me.” Two blue flames sear my core. “Fuck me like you’re all that tethers me to Earth. Fuck me like I’ll shatter into painful glass shards. Fuck me like you can’t stop until you consume me.

“Until I become yours.”

_Yours._ Maven never asked to be that before. The brand smolders at my collarbone, and I trace the edges. “Do you want one?”

He opens his mouth, then blinks. “I don’t know.”

“You--” Nope. Not going there. “You have hands. Undress yourself.”

They stray to my waist. “Shall I undress you too?”

Say no. He'd be angry, betrayed, but he'll pull away. We'll pick a new mind game to play, one we understand. I hadn't realized we would escalate so far.

“I will.”

We toss our pants aside, sliding together in bliss and pain. Neither of us speak. Neither of us lie. Neither of us can unsee the emotions and desires we reveal in the dark.

By morning, he is gone.

I might be gone too.


	7. A Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all_  
>  \- Need You Now _by Lady Antebellum_

#### Mare

His touch still burns.

I’ve given up trying to scrub it away. Instead, I let it linger on my skin, desperate to understand every scrape, bite, pinch, and bruise, the compelling depth I’ve found in this pain. My focus is sharper than it has ever been. No Skonos will bid these marks to fade.

What will he do when he sees them? When he remembers all the things we did in the dark, the secrets we shared, the games we played?

Will he want to do it again?

It doesn’t matter. He’ll be too busy to consider it as the next stage of my plan unfolds. Maven is a can of gasoline. A spark, and he’ll explode.

A few hours after my summon, he arrives in the late afternoon. I keep to the corner, sliding behind him as he enters and tracing circles on his back. My voice brims with hurt. “You erased them.”

Maven breathes in my arms, darkened shapes exposed to broad daylight. “You should too. People will gossip.”

“Oh, darling,” I purr. “They’re always gossiping. We’re quite the spectacle.”

“A Skonos will be here within the hour.” He steps into the hallway. “Get some rest.”

I catch his hand. “That’s all?”

Maven pries my fingers away, silent.

“Fuck me and leave. That’s what I mean to you.” The whimpers come too easily, the tears too fast. Nails tear through his flesh and mine. “This love you’ve caged me for. That’s all it meant to you.”

His hands shake. He lets me carve a grey line into his palm, flinching. “If I look at you for too long, I’ll cry.”

“Then cry.”

It takes a minute. His pride faces off against my own, but Maven has taken all the shame I have. He will cry for me. He will lay himself bare lest I feel underdressed. It’s the least he can do.

“I’m not sure what happened last night. Whether something snapped in you.” A droplet glides across his cheek. “Or in me.”

“Does it matter? We’re both broken either way.” A coarse laugh. “This is the second time we’ve done this. Will it be a habit?”

“It shouldn’t be.” Maven steps backward.

“‘Should’ isn’t the same as ‘will’.”

He grits his teeth. “Mare, I can’t see the future.”

“Isn’t that convenient.” My lids hang heavy, and my limbs hang heavier. “Jon’s gone. I wonder how much he lied to you.”

Maven lingers in the doorway. “You’ll never know.”

“Neither will you.”

As he leaves, my legs grow heavier, eyes fixed on a point he cannot see. I gasp, hand clasped too late to muffle the sound. My neck twists as I spiral to darkness, manacles chinking as they hit the ground first. Look at me. Watch me suffer.

Know yourself responsible.

He catches me. I hang limp in what must be his arms, stretch a hand to a blurry shadow which can only be his face. “Put me down. I don’t want--” My eyes flutter shut. “Don’t touch me.”

I had no opportunities to practice, lest I give away to the cameras that this is an act. But I am always on the verge of collapse nowadays, and he must know it. Fear it.

Maven grips me tighter, slipping beneath my legs so that I am suspended in the air, then surrounded by soft sheets. I whimper. <span class="font-small">“Cold. So cold.”</span>

Blankets settle over me, followed by smooth healer hands. The Skonos has nothing new to report. “Her body has deteriorated for some time. I’ve never heard of anyone exposed to silence for this long. Her organs may start shutting down.”

“She is not dying.”

“Not yet. But my abilities are not limitless.”

“Leave.” His voice is a knife. “Come back when you are useful.”

She knows better than to argue. Maven paces for what must be an hour, occasionally stopping to reach for, but never touch, my cheek. If he wants a reaction, he doesn’t get it.

At some point, I must’ve fallen asleep, for Iris’s voice jolts me awake. “You’re obsessed.”

My eyes flutter open. Maven’s back is turned to me, focused on his wife ten feet away. “She's ill. Have some compassion.”

“I have compassion for the country you’re neglecting. Given the stakes, she is remarkably unimportant.”

The temperature plunges, and I shudder. “Maven,” I whisper, eyes newly shut. “Maven, don’t. Please. Anything but that. I--” I wince. “It hurts.” Tears collect on my pillow. “Stop. It hurts. Make it stop.”

A frigid hand clasps mine. “I’m right here. It’s only a nightmare.”

Iris scoffs.

“Hold your tongue, Wife.”

“You have such marvelous fantasies.” The tension could shatter glass. “I'm not a servant you may order as you wish. I am not disposable. I shall speak as I please, and you will not dismiss me to grieve over a lost pet.”

Glass shatters.

“Go ahead. Throw a tantrum.”

Maven laughs. “You overestimate your own importance. However fiercely you snarl, your powers are nothing against the weight of silent stone. I can secure Lakeland help without you: the Scarlet Guard is known to kill queens.”

Heavy breathing and the swish of steel. I open my eyes to a standstill, a watery claw poised at Maven’s chest and a dagger to Iris’s throat. Neither moves. Neither blinks.

Despite my manacles, I remain a spark.

“Make love to the vase. It’s as broken as you are.” Iris leaves with a huff, slamming her tendril on the floor.

Maven sighs. “Another mess to clean up.” He strokes my hair, looking into my eyes. “You have a talent for making them.” My heart accelerates as I claim his hand, smooth fingered and nail-bitten, a liferaft in the sea he’s dropped me in. “Though I was a mess long before you met me.”

We tremble in unison, uncertain who will break first. We are both as shattered as the vase on the floor, held together by naught but glue and spite. And spite can only last so long.

Maven kneels his head. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“It wasn’t a dream.”

“You’re still shivering.” He places a hand on my forehead. “Under so many blankets. I--” Maven hesitates. “Don’t panic. I’m not trying anything. I--You’re freezing.” He slips beneath the covers, effusing a gentle heat. “Let me know when you’re warm,” he mumbles, face turned away.

I don’t move.

A silver flush has climbed up his neck. I could strangle him. I could kill him, in my bed, for daring to warm me to health.

I waver, hand creeping, but not pressing. He stiffens. Soft fingers meet mine and pry, intertwining as he faces me. “Mare. You asked if this would be a habit.” Maven finds my other hand. “Do you want it to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neither do I.”

We lay in silence, drawing no closer, no further. He knows where his hands have been. How my lips feel against his skin. The lines I’m willing to cross.

Maven pinches the nearest manacle, and I flinch. “Sorry. I need the silence.” His eyes close. “In more ways than one.”

Warning bells ring as I stare at his hand. What does that mean?

He winces. “She’s so loud,” he whispers. “So loud. I can barely think. I can’t hear anything except her screams.”

“What.” I can’t breathe. “Maven. What are you saying?”

“Nothing.”

She’s still there. He won’t admit it, but she’s there. Listening. Watching. Lurking. Even in death, she stretches her shadow over us both. “Was that why you built your throne?”

A beat passes. “Yes.”

“Was she with us that night?” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Screaming? Was that why you wanted me to destroy you?”

“Among others.” He smooths my hair. “Your manacles rid me of her.”

A painful shield. Maven’s face is worn with exhaustion, hair tangled and sweaty, eyes wavering from the effort of holding back tears. His lips find mine, kissing me as he cries. I nestle in his chest, arms folding against his back, a calm oasis in a desert of pain.

Bit by bit, we shed our layers. I need to feel his skin on mine. I need to know someone cares enough to lay beside me, to kiss me when they know they shouldn’t. I need to pretend he isn’t a king, but a boy, my boy, mine to love and cherish without shame.

But shame cannot be avoided forever.

“Are you warm?” Maven brushes my hair from my eyes, kissing my forehead. Sweat glistens on our skin, matching marks of betrayal and regret. To be seen by no one but each other.

“No,” I lie. “Cal was always hotter than you.”

He grips my jaw. “Is he? Interesting.” Maven leans to whisper in my ear. “Would Cal agree? Would he look at us together and not be hurt? Because he wasn’t too keen on the idea last night. Called me a liar.”

I can’t breath. “You told him.”

“He asked how I bruised my face. Not my fault he disliked the answer.” Maven chuckles. “You wanted me to keep your marks.”

“Get out.”

He plants one last kiss on my forehead, smirking. “I thought you wanted me in you.”

“Get. Out.”

“Shame. Try not to faint again.” Maven slips his clothes on. “I won’t always be here to catch you.”

I reach for the hand sanitizer as he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said. Maven cans.
> 
> If you have any thoughts, please comment! It drives me crazy when you guys are silent


	8. Little Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sometimes to run is the brave thing_  
>  Sometimes giving up is the strong thing  
> \- it's time to go _by Taylor Swift_

#### Iris

I don’t know what led me down here. Mother warned me not to indulge my curiosity, that it would grow fat and demanding, savoring my mistakes like a ripe persimmon. Still, the dim, foreboding dungeon entrance beckons me, drawing one foot after another down the steps until I’m face to face with a caged figure.

I know one Calore brother. Why not meet the other?

“Who are you?” Tiberias Calore keeps his distance, hand where his flamemaker bracelets used to be. “Is Maven too scared to taunt me himself?”

“How rude.” I run a finger along the bars. “Is that how you greet royalty?”

“Iris Cygnet.” He says my name like it tastes of bile. A war general before a king, he must know me as an enemy first and a fellow Silver second. “Welcome to the Calore family.” He bows his head. “My condolences.”

I laugh. “Mother always said I had a good head on my shoulders. She didn’t mention if they were attached.”

He pales.

“Your cage isn’t as nice as hers.” I breathe in the bare furnishings, the unforgiving stone, the pitiful dimensions. “His obsession must not extend to you in the same way.”

“I hope not.” His face clouds. “Is she alright?”

“It’s quite a lovely cage, gilded and cushioned for a beloved pet. A stable fit for a prized Mare.” I chuckle. “Was that good? I heard you like puns.”

“Is. She. Alright.”

“It was good. Admit it.” I extend a hand through the bars, but he doesn’t take it. “Sulking is for children, Little Prince. I shan’t answer your question if you don’t give me reason.”

“Six months.” He slumps. “Six months of searching, praying, crying, screaming, pacing, worrying, endless worrying, worrying that consumes my thoughts and dreams until my nightmares are the same as my days. Spare me the mind games.”

I draw back. “My husband didn’t speak much of you. I see why.”

“He said he and Mare--” He falters. “She--That--”

“That they fucked?”

He flinches. “Yes.”

“He disappears into her room at night. I presume they aren’t cuddling.”

“Did--?” He closes his eyes. “Did he force her?”

My head tilts. “I hadn’t considered that. I don’t listen outside their door, you know. It’s possible.” I sigh. “But unlikely. He holds her at arm’s length, and the only moves he’s made are ones she’s dared him to. I suppose I should thank her.”

His gaze burns. “You should do more.”

“Perhaps. She’s got too firm a grasp on him, but nothing I’ve tried has pulled them apart. Whatever his mother did, it cannot be undone.” I glide to the bars. “You lived with her. Tell me, what was it like? She was so cruel to her son; she must have been a monster to her stepchild.”

“None of your business.”

“You’re no fun.” I purse my lips. “Still, I’m glad Barrow disposed of her. I would not have liked wrestling with her. Nor Evangeline. If only I’d grabbed hold of his leash before she did.”

“My brother is not a dog.”

I chuckle. “I suppose you’re the one in a cage.”

“Why are you here?” Tiberias towers over me.

“Curiosity. Stupidity. Who knows?” My hands shake. “He threatened me. He threatened me, his queen, a Lakeland princess, the key to this alliance, over a prisoner. I’ve had to take over so many of his duties, and he still moons over her like a lost puppy!”

He shrugs. “If you came for sympathy, I have none.”

It stings far more than it should.

“You married him. You should’ve known what you were getting into.”

I sigh. “Are you always this presumptuous? I had no choice. Father arranged the terms without my input, declaring it an honor. He had made me more than his daughter.” Vapor shimmers with my rage. “I became an alliance.”

A beat passes. “Are you happy, Iris?”

“Since when have Silvers cared for happiness?”

“I’m not most Silvers.”

“Correct. You associate with rats.”

He scoffs. “You believe that nonsense?”

“Nonsense? It is the foundation of our society. It is bound in our institutions, our laws, our diplomatic relations.” I clutch my gown. “If you don’t believe that, what can you believe?”

“I don’t. Ask anyone.” Tiberias retreats into the darkness, his eyes gleaming like molten bronze. “I waver on the line, unsure where to fall. I want peace. I want justice. The balance is delicate and fragile, and it does no good to trample it in pursuit of one’s principles.”

“You and I are very different.” I climb onto the steps. “And you are quite boring.”

“Iris Cygnet.”

I halt.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Little Prince, I am a queen. I don’t owe you anything.”

“Me, no. But what about yourself?” The air prickles. “Are you happy, Iris? Will marriage to my brother be fulfilling? Will you spend the rest of your days knowing you made the right decision?”

I don’t bother responding as I disappear into the night.


	9. Play with Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I can't breathe and I can't smile  
>  This better be worth my while  
> \- Numb _by Marina and the Diamonds__

#### Iris

“I don’t suppose you plan to burn him alive.” I watch my husband play with his bracelet, blue-white flames flickering across his palm. “Amusing as it would be.”

The air grows cold. “Do you know what happens to a Burner in silent stone?”

“No.” I gather water near his flame, letting it hiss and crackle. “Are you volunteering yourself as a test subject?”

He cackles. “Wife, you have such marvelous fantasies.”

“Not the first time you’ve disappointed. I’m sure Mare Barrow can attest to that.”

Her name is gasoline on a furnace. His fire extinguishes with a hiss, temperature plunging. Frost crusts at the windows, and my silk gown is little protection from the chill. His hands shake with years of suppressed rage.

He’d like to incinerate me.

“Calm down.” Sweat pools at my temple. “It’s a joke.”

“It’s not funny.” Frost retreats from the glass, and my dress feels appropriate again. Still, his breathing is rapid and uneven. “I have limits. Push them at your peril.”

As if he could best me.

“You’re the one who plays with fire.” I roll my eyes. “Very well.”

Maven chuckles. “I did consider it. It was quite tempting to see my brother bested by my flame. But it struck me as unfair.” He taps the table. “Did you know Cal is afraid of water?”

I do not like where this is going.

“My perfect brother could be bested by a ten year old in a swimming match. I was planning to employ an Osanos, but I recognize my rudeness now.” His eyes gleam. “Would you like the privilege?”

Tiberias Calore was an honest man. But honest men do not rule the world.

“If you insist.”

_ 

“Drowning.” Mare paces back and forth, one tense second away from tearing the floorboards from their foundation. “Sadistic bastard.”

“Knowing him, he’ll butcher it somehow.” Small comforts are all I can give her. “The cameras will malfunction. Tiberias will make a grand speech that transforms him into a martyr. He’ll choke an Osanos or two before he dies.” I sigh. “For a sociopath, that man is remarkably incompetent.”

“How many?”

I look up, startled. Mare clutches the window as if her sorrow could shatter diamondglass. “How many Osanos?”

“I don’t know.” I can’t tell her. I can’t sit here as she demands the impossible, wastes her waning strength on a mistake I can’t afford to make. “My husband did not trust me with the details.”

After seven months of silence and isolation, there shouldn’t be anything left in her to break. But break she does, spilling onto the floor and laying there. My abilities locate her tears despite me, droplets threatening my own eyes.

“I can’t say goodbye.” She sniffles. “The last thing he hears of me will be that I fucked his brother. He must hate me.”

I should resent her. This woman has ensnared my husband, wrecked havoc on my court, and allied herself with an organization that clamors for my death. I should not hesitate to strike the final blow.

But I can't.

“He doesn’t.” I sink next to her, smoothing her hair. However dull it grows, it’s still there, more striking than any glossy mane. “Any man worth your energy will care more about your safety then his ego. Your coping mechanisms are your business. Anyone shames you, tell me. I will slaughter them myself.”

Her Arven guards tense in my periphery. They are loyal to Maven, not me. I am a prisoner as much as she is.

We both need teeth to bite.

Mare lifts her head. “Please don’t. I don’t want any more blood on my hands.”

“Blood is a fact of life. But very well.” I take her hand. “I met him, and he wasn’t angry. His first question was whether or not you’d been forced.” I squeeze it. “You weren’t, right? If he did, I’ll make him stop.” My eyes blaze. “I’ll find a way.”

“I initiated every time.” Her breath hitches. “We’re lonely.”

So am I.

“I asked Tiora to send you a painting.” I hand her a tissue, letting my arm rest at the curve of her waist. “She said she would the past three letters, but the last two were buried under apologies for forgetting, so it might take a year or two.”

Mare laughs.

I can’t stay for long, not when there are broadcasts to be made, nobles to be placated, and wars to be won. Still, her face lingers in my mind, all sharp features and determination, like a sculpture of an old goddess who knows her time will come. And for the first time, I wish Maven were not so selfish in hoarding his toys.

It’s been ages since I’ve had a playmate so intriguing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't know you shipped it. You will.


	10. Choiceless Choices

#### Iris

#### 

He recognizes me.

I spin water in my palm to steady my breathing. Maven struts in front of his brother’s cell like an insecure peacock, gaudy badges crowded over a garish scarlet sash. The military uniform is unconvincing on his delicate frame, and the hollows under his eyes do nothing to help. I am not his concern.

That honor belongs to Tiberias. His eyes flicker to me, not for the first time. He asked me if I was happy having married a monster.

No one ever asked if I would be happy.

“Do you know what today is, brother?” Maven leers just beyond his reach, flames licking his palm. “Father never remembered, though you’d always pretend otherwise.”

His expression softens. “Nineteen. You’re not a boy anymore. But you’re not a man either.”

“How rude.” Maven chuckles. “And without a present, too.”

“You’ve borrowed my throne a year. I thought that present enough.”

“So generous. I shouldn’t be surprised.” He strokes his chin. “You always gave the best presents. You even gifted a sword to Father’s neck.”

“Husband, is there a point to this?” I let a tendril of water curl against his wrist. “I don’t care how long your dick is.”

His eyes flare to me, hands pinching my tendril. “There’s no need to be crude, Wife. Interrogating a prisoner is a valuable skill, one you must perfect to survive my court.”

Tiberias clears his throat. “So am I gonna die, or . . . ?”

“No!” Maven’s hands burst into flame, then extinguish. “Yes. I mean, I--No one asked you!”

I clap. “Good one.”

“Didn’t ask you either.” The air frosts as he turns away from both of us, muttering, “I definitely didn’t ask you.”

Tiberias’s eyes widen. “Who are you--?”

“You’re dying! Shut up!” Maven grips the bars like a lifeline. “You will drown before my court, for all of Norta to see, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.” His eyes dart to the side. “I know. Shut up.”

“Who--?”

“What did I say?” Maven yanks Tiberias’s hand until one of his fingers is close to snapping. “I could burn you. Do you realize that? Do you realize how powerless you are within this cage? Do you realize how tempting it is for me to light up a rag and toss it inside?”

Silence.

“Are we done here?” I yawn. “This is growing tedious.”

Maven composes himself. “Wife, I presume you know where the Bowl of Bones is. Escort the prisoner there. I will announce when you are to begin.”

“I do not take orders. But very well.” I unlock the door and Tiberias staggers out. “Should I hand him his flamemakers? It would be more humiliating.”

“On the platform. And not a moment sooner.”

Tiberias folds his arms. “Who were you talking to?”

Maven laughs. “Oh Brother, that’s the least of your concern. You always struggled with the Osanos in Training.” His smile cuts. “Iris is a Cygnet.”

He leaves Tiberias and me, but that does not mean we are alone. I tap my foot. “Must I give you directions in your own home?”

“Who was he talking to?”

“Who cares?” Gods, this man is dim. “Hurry up. You’re wasting my time.”

“I care.” Tiberias outpaces me, and I bite back a scathing remark. “He was talking to a person who didn’t exist. You’re not alarmed by that?”

“I’m not his keeper.”

“You’re his wife.”

“Not by choice.” I’m going to enjoy drowning him. “It’s bad enough we share a castle. I will not share his problems.”

His face softens. “You always have a choice, Iris. You just have to recognize it.”

The Bowl has been reshaped from a floor of sand to that of water, a narrow wooden square in the center. I shove Tiberias forward. “Step in.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Step. In.”

The water rises to meet his shoulders, carrying him to the platform. Electricity flickers to life, weaving a dome around us. I toss his flamemakers beside him. They won’t do him much good.

Maven’s voice echoes around us, a grand speech listing Tiberias’s crimes. Is this to be my life? Always watching, always waiting as he preens and squawks? Word games, court plots, brief refuges in Mare’s company, until she dies and he lashes out at me. His crimes. My punishment.

“You may begin.”

He’ll want this graphic and visceral, to give them a real show. I have too much spite for that. Water rises around Tiberias, thin curtains curving into a globe. In his mouth. Out his nose. Make it quick.

Mother was always fond of small mercies.

Will I ever see her again?

I pull a stream towards his mouth, and it isn’t quick. I’m shaking. I have killed dozens of men before him on the battlefield, all with more claim to innocence. He must die.

Unless I do this to Maven instead.

My globe pulses, threatening to enlarge. I could do it. He may be out of sight, but I know where he sits. The electric grid is no match for thousands of gallons of water striking at once, sizzling in an explosive display. I almost do.

The explosions come from the stands.

Scarlet Guard to the rescue. The cameras click off, not willing to air their triumph. They’ll revive in time to capture an atrocity, I’m certain.

I expand my sphere, tendrils curling off as I scan for the source. A Silver woman lays a hand on a wall, and it combusts, crumbling onto the seats.

This is not the Scarlet Guard.

Another explosion, and the electric grid sputters and dies. I will not strike until I know who they are. I may not strike at all.

I can handle any Oblivion. Even queens.

My streams catch falling debris, lowering them in a disordered heap below. Tiberias peers out from the center of my globe. His flamemakers are fastened to his wrists, but the fire he summons is feeble. A month of silence takes its toll.

No wonder my husband is so fond of it. He refuses to duel in any realm but the mind. I, on the other hand, can win in any arena I choose.

And I will choose.

Waves intertwine around Tiberias, but they do not crash onto his head. They collect him, placing a safe, but perplexed fire prince beside me. With a flick of my wrist, they form a shield around us both. He flattens against my back. “What is happening?”

“I am leaving. Come with me or don’t, but slow me down and I will drown you.” I summon another wave from vapor in the air, nobles scattering in my wake. “I’ve had enough of this marriage.”

“Someone else is helping you.” Tiberias eyes the perimeter, flames unsteady. “You don’t know who they are.”

“I don’t need to.”

“They want me.” Tiberias points at the next explosion. “You’re in the way.”

I prepare another insult, but hesitate. He’s right. I ripple my shield, allowing my voice to echo through the room. “Show yourself.”

Within moments, an old woman robed in orange and red appears beside me, separated only by a thin curtain of water. “Cygnet. Release my grandson.”

“Anabel Lerolan. How rude. Is that how you greet a fellow queen?”

“Maven is no king.” She lays a hand against my shield, but no explosions follow. “Join me, and you might taste true power. A marriage to etch into history books.”

Tiberias coughs. “Do I have a say in this?”

“Would you rather drown?”

“My hand is an instrument of my will, not something to be bartered and schemed for.” I huff. “I would rather support a king who promises to leave me alone.”

He perks. “I can do that. I’ll leave you alone as much as you please. Probably more so.”

“Deal.”

Anabel blasts a hole in the opposite wall. “There’s a getaway transport waiting in the pavilion. I’ll distract the guards.”

“No.” Why does anyone bother to save this man? “Mare’s been trapped in this palace for months. I owe her at least one more rescue attempt.”

“If you die, I’m not waiting.” I smash a tidal wave into the seats. “You probably will.”

“Then you can be smug at me in the afterlife.”

Tiberias runs off before Anabel can stop him. A teetering column smashes behind him, rubble battering and clouding my shield. By the time it clears, he is gone.

He returns without her.


	11. Tethered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Stared in a mirror and punched it to shatters_  
>  Collected the pieces and picked out a dagger  
> \- Nightmare _by Halsey_

#### Mare

His birthday.

____

He scheduled his brother’s execution on his birthday.

____

“I didn’t get you anything.” I refuse to look at him, focusing on the clawed branches outside my window. “I thought it appropriate.”

____

“Your affection knows no bounds.” He’s far too pleased with himself, spinning his bracelet around his wrist like a newly discovered toy.

____

“Yours does.”

____

Maven has no response.

____

“Are you going to make me watch?” I squeeze a pillow, imagining it’s his throat. “Because I’ll cry. Do you want that? Do you want to broadcast me crying to millions of television screens? Does it get you off?”

____

The air grows too cold to breathe. “He can’t live.”

____

“You’re delusional.”

____

“So are you.”

____

My hands reach for his neck, but he catches them. “You’re worse than a monster. You’re worse than a murderer. You’re a parasite who feeds on bitterness and misery. You--”

____

“I would never make you watch.” Maven moves from my wrist to my palms, intertwining our fingers. “I’m not that cruel.”

____

The words squeeze my insides. “You are.”

____

“I wouldn’t.”

____

“You would. If I pushed you.”

____

Maven lets go. I trace my bracelet until my finger catches on a sharp edge, drawing blood. “Leave.”

____

He obeys.

____

____

Let him obsess over my reaction. Let his gaze wander towards my chambers and away from Cal. Let his mind be consumed by plans to seduce me, little mind games to pull me back into his arms. Let him forget to take precautions.

____

Let him make a fatal mistake.

____

The Scarlet Guard will attempt a rescue. They have to. Cal divides the Silver Court, pitting house against house to seat him on the throne. He is our best chance to strike against them.

____

I slump against my window. I had begged Maven not to place me in the audience, but not seeing is somehow worse. The Bowl of Bones is not visible from my chambers, no matter how I squint.

____

Why am I so useless?

____

A bang pierces through the silence, the crumbling of stone. Screams clamor over each other in the distance. My window taunts me with its stillness, its tranquility.

____

I slam against it.

____

Clover hauls me backwards before my fists make contact. I thrash and twist and buckle, crying. I need to see him. I need to help him. I need to get out of this cage.

____

She pins me to the ground. “Shut up.”

____

I scream.

____

Her hand clasps over my mouth, and I bite it. She curses, yanking at my hair and clawing my jaw. I will not let go. If I am a dog, then I will be one that yowls, claws and bites until it is set free.

____

I will never be docile.

____

“Bitch.” She tears her hand away from me, my teeth tearing skin and flesh I spit onto the floor. “Tie her up.”

____

I don’t make it easy. Trio must place his foot on my back as Clover kneels on my legs. Each fumble for hands that pinch, bruise, dig, and twist. “Careful. Maven will be mad if you break me.”

____

They leave me on the ground, tethered like a pig on a spit. They keep their distance. Good. Fear me.

____

It’s all I have.

____

I gnash my teeth, twitching, seeing all the ways I can make them flinch. I can’t reach Cal. I don’t know what’s happened. I don’t know how he plans to escape, if he’s made a plan at all.

____

Perhaps he is already dead.

____

Footsteps echo in the halls. Maven. He’s finished overseeing the execution, and now he wants to nest inside my head.

____

He might enjoy seeing me tied up. He might be angry.

____

There’s only one way to find out.

____

Trio slips outside, and for a second, I can hear two low, murmuring voices. Then a scuffle. He vanishes with a scream. The door rips from its hinges, melting into a puddle of steel and perfuming the air with ash. He is not Maven.

____

Maven was never this handsome.

____

Cal bursts into my chambers, fists aflame. Clover knows when she’s outmatched, and retreats into the hallway. I’m glad Egg took the day off.

____

“Untie me.”

____

The ropes clatter to the floor, and I stretch my aching muscles. He’s real. He’s real, and he’s come to save me from this hell.

____

I love him.

____

Cal stares at me. I embrace him, relishing his warmth, his steadiness, his unerring strength. No one will hurt me. No one will cage me. I can light up the sky with my rage. And he can join me.

____

“Cal?”

____

“It’s alright.” His arms are so gentle, so delicate. He might disappear if I blinked too hard. “Your teeth. They’re silver.”

____

“I bite.”

____

He glances down at the floor, eyes widening as he spies the chunks of silver flesh on the ground. “What has he done to you?”

____

“What hasn’t he done to me?” Is he judging me? “I’m in a cage, Cal. I do whatever I need to, and if it’s a little grotesque, so be it.” I pound the window. “How do you break through diamondglass?”

____

He shakes his head. “We need to get you out of here.”

____

“Did you kill Trio? The scarred one. He might know.” I fumble with the edges, feeling for a hidden compartment. “Please tell me this is a special window that unlocks with a secret code or something.”

____

Cal nudges me aside, opening it. “We need a rope. Start tearing sheets.”

____

We weave in tense silence. I’ll be free. Free to see Gisa, Mom, Bree, Tramy, Dad, Farley, Julian, Kilorn, Cameren, and so many others. Free to fight again, to . . .

____

What will I do? Maven has ruined me for propaganda. I haven’t fought in months, muscles wasted to bones. He’ll tear at the Guard with a renewed vengeance if they steal me, his tether to sanity, his sliver of happiness, his companion of tears.

____

I do more damage chained than free.

____

The realization cuts. It scrapes against my bone marrow, sending shock waves through my spine. I need to stay. I need to stay at his side, in his court, where I can sow discord, easier than ever if I prove I won’t leave him.

____

It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

____

The rope lays finished at my feet, and I hand it to Cal. “You go first. I’ll climb down after.”

____

“No. What if the guards come back?” He shakes his head. “You’re in no shape for fighting. I’ll stand watch. Besides, that rope is more likely to support your weight than mine.”

____

“Please go.”

____

“Mare, it’s fine. You don’t need to be a hero.”

____

“Go.”

____

Cal tugs my hand. “Seriously, you don’t need to do this. Don’t make me carry you.”

____

Maven’s chest suffocates me again, and it takes all I have not to be lost in the memory. “I’m not leaving. Don’t make me call the guards.”

____

“What?” My hand grows cold. “That wasn’t funny, Mare.”

____

“It shouldn’t be. I wasn’t joking.” I tap my wrist. “You have two minutes before I yell for Maven. Get a head start.”

____

“What the hell.” He’s gonna make me call him, isn’t he? “Mare. Is he drugging you? Did he get a whisper to--It doesn’t matter.” Cal hauls me into his arms, and I don’t have the strength to fight him. “Let’s get you out of here. I’ll fix this, I promise.”

____

He’s not listening. “Maven! Help!”

____

Cal stills.

____

“Put me down.” I push at his chest. “You can’t carry me and climb at the same time, and you definitely can’t before your brother gets here. I’m staying here. I don’t have time to explain.”

____

The air scalds, but a chill drifts from the doorway. He’s here. He’s here, and Cal is too stubborn to put me down. “Brother. Kindly extricate yourself from my associate. She doesn’t appreciate the theatrics.”

____

“You heard him.”

____

Cal ignores me. “She’s not your anything. I don’t know what trick you’ve pulled to make her act this way, but I’m not buying it.”

____

I sigh. “Congratulations. You broke the spell.” My voice drips with sarcasm. “Can you put me down now?”

____

“Listen to Mare.” Maven steps forward, hand extended. “Or do you intend to hold her against her will?”

____

Cal grips me harder, and I have no choice. His hand tastes like dirt, blood, and betrayal, uncurling in shock. Snarling, I tumble from his arms. “I warned you. I bite.”

____

“I’m ashamed, Brother. Is this how low you’ve fallen?” Maven tuts. “Scuffling at my window. Brutalizing my guards. Kidnapping my lover. I thought you were a man of grace and dignity, but you’ve proven yourself a coward.

____

“Mare, darling.” He helps me off the ground, bowing his head as though I were a lady. “What do we do with cowards?”

____

I scowl. “We let them go and never think of them again.”

____

“I forgot you failed Protocol. Shame.” Maven wraps an arm around my waist. “We give them a coward’s death.”

____

“Yes.” I untangle from his grasp. “A coward’s death. Safe. At home. Surrounded by guards.”

____

“You’re the only coward here.” Don’t. “Hiding behind a screen. Making your wife do your dirty work.” A slap would only make things worse, but I’d feel better. “Seen Iris lately? You’d think she’d have stopped me.” Cal doesn’t blink. “Unless I killed her.”

____

Maven halts.

____

Cal slams into him, rendering him unconscious with a blow to the jaw. Another hit might finish him. He rests his brother against the wall. “It’s a three story drop. This rope better hold.”

____

“Leave without me.”

____

“We’re not arguing about this.”

____

“Correct. I’m telling you, and you will listen. I have my reasons.” I shove the rope in his hands. “It’ll make sense in the end, I promise.”

____

“Do you pride yourself on being frustrating?”

____

“I pride myself on being useful. Trust me; I’ll help you far more at his side than I ever could on the battlefield.” I cup his cheeks, trembling. “Go. I’ll aid you any way I can.”

____

Something clicks. “I can’t save you.”

____

“You can’t.”

____

Cal pulls away, looking one last time before scaling down the window. I wait until he reaches the courtyard, then thrust my chambers open. “Help! The king is injured! He’s not breathing! Help!”

____

It’s enough of a distraction to let him slip away.

____

Maven stirs. I help him to his feet, cradling his head with one hand. “I said I didn’t get you a present.” I kiss him. “I lied.”

____

He chuckles. “I would never expect anything less.”

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a simple woman. I see a reader's heart; I stab it.


	12. Affectionate Trigonometry

#### Iris

Tiberias cannot stop moping. He barely smiles at his grandmother. His head hangs at a permanent angle, always fascinated by the ground. He won’t laugh at any of my excellent jokes.

It’s annoying.

“Does she love him?” Tiberias finally speaks once we arrive inside the gates. Anabel nudges him forward, past metal columns and ominous guards. I might have exchanged one prison for another. “He wrote her letters when we were on the run, and she kept them. Read them in the middle of the night, over and over, crying. They were friends once.”

“Please don’t involve me in your melodramatic teenage love triangle.”

“She’s being tortured.” He glares. “What mind fuckery does it take to convince someone it’s better to be tortured than not? It’s a reasonable concern.”

I roll my eyes. “Do you think her an idiot? Use your head.” I scoff. “Mare knows what kind of man he is. No amount of poetry can erase that. Perhaps she has plans you don’t know about.”

Tiberias sighs. “Of course. She had to make herself a martyr.”

“Wonder who she learned it from.”

“We’re here.” Anabel guides her grandson away from me, halting in front of a bedroom far less grand than his station should merit. “Don’t get comfortable. Maven’s troops have been marching towards Corvium, and a clash is inevitable.”

“I am no stranger to battle.” I lean against the wall. “Tiberias, on the other hand, hasn’t trained in weeks.”

He rolls his eyes “I’m beginning to understand why Maven threatened you.”

“I know. Neither of you have a sense of humor.” I huff. “Barrow does. Can’t fathom how either of you attracted her.”

“Did you talk to her?” Tiberias lingers in the doorway. Anabel has retreated, choosing to inform others of our arrival rather than escorting me to my chambers. It seems poor manners run in the family.

“Occasionally.” I study my nails. “She understood what court did not. I could relax my guard and discuss what mattered to me without fear of violence or interrogation. She was a suitable companion.”

“Did--?” He hesitates. “Did she ever talk about me or Maven?”

“Self-centered, I see. What did I say about the love triangle?” I roll my eyes. “She barely mentioned either of you, as she should. Empty wind bags, both of you. Learn some manners.”

He slams the door in my face.

My room is severe, black and silver coiling around one another in columns along the side, punctuated by the occasional window. Metal spikes gleam on every surface. These people would turn on me the instant they stood to gain.

I reach for my vapor to soothe me, but a portion of the air is conspicuously dry. There’s a body in the way. “Lady Evangeline, I’m not an idiot. Keep your shadow wench to yourself.”

“ _ Princess _ Evangeline.” She appears in the doorway, arms crossed. There’s a new smugness to her posture, one I hadn’t thought possible. “You’re addressing an equal, nymph.”

I know her type. Deeply insecure, overcompensating, resentful of anyone with the authority to make her shut up. They were always the first to call Tiora lazy, or me an emotionless statue.

“It’s still an act of aggression. Did you fail Protocol, Your Highness?”

“Why are you here?” She scowls. “You had everything, and you gave it up for what, a disgraced prince? You can’t be that foolish.”

I scoff. “Everything? Do you think titles are all that defines power? There is always someone above you, and I’d rather they be Mother than an overstuffed peacock. I’m sure she’ll agree.”

She tenses. “You don’t know that. You can’t leave an engagement and beg forgiveness. Marriage is for alliances, treaties, business deals. Not happiness.”

“Pardon. Did I ask your opinion?” I turn my back. “I’ve no desire to steal your princeling, so please cease the dramatics. Empty your misery on someone who cares.”

The air beside me shimmers into a curtsey, coiled locks more flame than hair. “Forgive me. I couldn’t restrain my curiosity.”

I sniff. “Be more cautious next time. I may not use underlings to teach a lesson, but others might.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. You’re wise beyond your years.”

“At least one of you passed protocol.” I am the still ocean waters on a moonlit night, placid surface teeming with dangers beneath. “Bother me again, and I’ll carve the next warning into your flesh.”

“What a charming guest.” Evangeline steps in front of her lover, the metal ornaments twitching in time to her rage. “Congratulations. Few manage to be so insufferable Maven Calore won’t tolerate them, but you broke his patience within a month.”

“Please leave. Don’t make me settle this in public. My family might still love me after a humiliation, but I suspect yours won’t.”

Poke a bear, you get mauled.

Evangeline pales. “Come, Elane. This is growing tedious.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she follows.

I grasp at vapor to ensure I am alone before collapsing onto the bed. This was the longest day in an endless string of sleepless nights and busy schedules, and I cannot summon the energy to don a proper nightgown. Gods, grant me strength. My mortal body is failing me.

When have I last been able to rest?

Perhaps I should’ve stayed. Maven’s image was a devilish foil to mine, the violent temper to my measured calm, the madness to my rationality, the Merandus menace to my Cygnet saviour. Once his brother had been slain, I might have swayed enough nobles to depose him.

A Lakeland Empire.

But I’m not a machine. His blunders couldn’t go uncorrected, my every moment squeezed for maximum efficiency. Every missed meeting was filled by me, every slighted noble soothed, always humble, always reserved. So much work, most unappreciated.

Why does any woman marry?

  
  


I wake at noon.

My morning routine condenses to a flurry, plain dress and sloppy hairstyle compensating for the time already wasted. War waits for none, no matter their status.

To my dismay, Tiberias is already alert, eyes plastered to a broadcast. Seated beside him, a scrawny red boy grits his teeth. Tiberias wrings his hands, lips pressed to a thin line.

“She must know how damaging this is.” Scrawny paces back and forth, fists clenched. “It’s exactly the propaganda he needs, and we can’t afford to lose any more support.”

“He’s blackmailing her.” Tiberias clutches his head. “Remember when he forced her to recruit newbloods? Her hollow eyes, her tense stance, her starved frame--they’ve all grown so much worse.” He closes his eyes. “She was so fragile. I can’t imagine what he’s done to her.”

Scrawny throws his hands in the air. “ _ Then why didn’t she leave _ ?”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

“Excuse me.” I nudge Tiberias, and he glares. “You’re blocking the screen.”

He shuffles with a huff, revealing a familiar set of blue eyes and stolen valor. The words slide off me, the usual pageantry, but enough details stick to complete the picture. Her face flickers into view, a stone that has withstood the pull of an ocean.

Her time has come.

“Well, well, well.” I chuckle. “She plays him like a fiddle.”


	13. Lover's Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker  
>  Every kiss you give me makes me sicker  
> \- E. V. O. L. _by Marina and the Diamonds__

#### Mare

Days pass without a visit, with naught but the ceiling tiles to aid my scheming. My heart skids and shudders at an uneven pace, and everything--the walls, the guards, the pain--blurs around it. Sometimes it is light. Sometimes it is dark. Sometimes Cal begs for me in my dreams.

__

It must be a week.

__

Is he bored of me?

__

I lay my head against the pillow for a noonday nap. Footsteps draw closer, and I pull upright. A familiar head emerges from the doorway, black hair tousled and slick with sweat. The circles beneath his eyes may well be charcoal, bruises tithe for the nightmares he cannot have.

__

He has me, I suppose.

__

“Could you knock?” I make a show of smoothing my hair, twisting the gray ends so they catch the light. “I thought princes were taught better manners.”

__

“I’m a king.”

__

“Depends who you ask.” He tenses, but I press on. “Prince, king, monster--it doesn’t matter. You’ll always be Maven to me.”

__

I can’t read his expression as he settles on the edge of my bed. He tosses a packet onto my lap, the stiff print of government documents. “It matters to me.”

__

My hands brush shakily over the surface. “Did you like my present?”

__

“Read it.”

__

The wording is archaic and stilted, certain phrases snagging my eye while others blur to nonsense. _Protection of the Crown. Cases of Legitimacy. Line of Succession. _“What the hell is this?”__

_____ _

He chuckles, fingertips grazing my leg. “Do you know what a royal consort is?”

_____ _

“If it won’t let me punch you in the face, I’m not interested.”

_____ _

“You should be.” Maven’s eyes gleam. “My grandfather had one. Had Father any sense, he would have made one of Corrieanne, though I doubt Mother would have stood for it.”

_____ _

“I don’t care about your parents’ love life.” I yawn. “I barely care about yours.”

_____ _

“It’s a title granted to royal lovers.” His hand retreats from my thigh. “You’ll have an official place in my court, and the protection of the Crown. You won’t be interrogated by a Merandes ever again. Just sign the dotted line.”

_____ _

“What’s the rest?” I flip through the papers. “I’m not agreeing to 37 pages of paperwork so you can brag about fucking me.”

_____ _

Maven chokes, but swiftly recovers. “Mostly terms regarding any children we might have, but that’s--that’s--I’m too young to talk about heirs.” His cheeks flush grey. “There are more pertinent matters.”

_____ _

“What’s in it for me?”

_____ _

He traces the nearest manacle, face softening. “These come off.”

_____ _

I still.

_____ _

“You had a chance to leave, and you didn’t. I can trust you without them. Provided you sign, of course.”

_____ _

It’ll be like before. A red princess, paraded on Maven’s arm, a symbol of hope to dull us into complacency. At least I get to keep my name.

_____ _

My hand shakes as I grasp the pen. “No more silent stone?”

_____ _

“Never.” He grips my shoulders, mouth at my ear. “Unless you give me reason.”

_____ _

Fire sings in my blood as I yank him closer. “Then I’ll never leave.” My lips graze his, close enough to bite. “Unless you give me reason.”

_____ _

“So you agree.”

_____ _

“Silence.” My fingers curl into his hair and pull, claiming his breath before he can respond. The less he can speak, the less he can lie. 

_____ _

We sink into the pillows, Maven shuddering beneath my touch. Heat climbs up my spine and I want nothing more but to burn him and his stupid palace to the ground. Make an M from the ashes. _M _for monster. _M _for murderer. _M _for mistake.______

________ _ _ _ _

_M _for Mare.__

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He caresses my body with the barest of touches, as though I were a delicate vase rather than a thorn burrowing in his heart. One hand finds my face, guiding me away from his mouth to his glistening neck. A little further, and I could give him hickeys to match my brand.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

The thought should thrill me less.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“My queen.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Consort.” I nip his trachea. “If I sign.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You chose me.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Less talking, more gasping.” 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He slithers to my ear. “Be specific, Mare. Are we talking low, husky moans, or--” His breathing grows rapid. “Would you prefer quick, panicked gulps of air?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Doesn’t matter. So long as you say my name.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He says it like a prayer. He says it like a curse. He says it like a taunt, a sweet nothing, a vengeance, a promise. He sees through me like no one else can, like no one else wants to. “Mare. My queen.”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

I’ve given up correcting him.  
_

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

I glare at my signature, freshly scrawled and painfully red, as though it will change anything. I need the leverage this position will give me, the trust it represents. And I need these manacles off before they smother me.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Everyone will know.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

If they didn’t already.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

A dark, bitter laugh escapes my throat. Lover. As if Maven and I have ever approached love. Loneliness. Desperation. Sorrow. A void filled with the closest body, not healing, but deepening. Love only to fools and beggars.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

To anyone else, we are a curse.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I briefly considered titling this "Rise Alone", but "Lover's Curse" is the one I stuck with
> 
> Fun fact: This is the first chapter I wrote for this story. I wrote all the scenes out of order and assembled them into a coherent narrative afterwards. I've never done that before, and it was really fun!


	14. To Tear a Rift

When will people learn to leave me alone?

Ever since I’ve arrived, they’ve swarmed me with their questions and favors.  _ How was your journey, Your Highness? Does your mother know you’ve defected? Will you and Tiberias wed before or after he’s crowned? Did Maven scorn you for his red whore? _

It’s a miracle I haven’t slaughtered them.

Evangeline lurks in my periphery, reveling in my misery. What a waste of Silver blood. No ambition but spite, a hollow vessel from which unpleasantness comes. If only she’d stop pointing it my direction.

“Displeased with your fan club?” She slinks from the shadows, clad in metal plates that slither on her hips like a snake. “Pity. It takes an iron will to bear the duties of a queen.”

“Thankfully I’m not a queen anymore. And neither are you.” I breeze past her, but she follows. “No, wait. You were never crowned.”

“Strange. You may speak with confidence, but your actions don’t match.” She strokes a silver bangle, an overdesigned eyesore of edges and points. “As far as Norta knows, you’ve been spooked into hiding by an overambitious rat.”

A Cygnet should not have nerves to strike. But if she does, it should never be apparent. “I don’t make hasty decisions. Is your ego fragile enough to be ruined by gossip?”

“Enough arrogance. Let’s settle this like Silvers.” Evangeline flashes her teeth. “The arena will suffice. Don’t you agree?”

I don’t have time for this. “Tomorrow.”

“Yes.” Her eyes gleam. “Tomorrow.”   
  


* * *

I have a visitor.

She knows better than to hide herself. Her knocks are faint and unsteady, and I wait a minute before answering. “No escort. Curious. Evangeline did not strike me as a coward.”

Elane fidgets. “She didn’t send me.”

I begin closing the door. “I forgave you. Leave.”

“You misunderstand.” Her foot slides in front of the frame. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Make it quick.”

She doesn’t flinch. Her glide is seamless, silk rustling as she nestles in the chair opposite mine. “It would be gauche to demand leniency from one so titled and gracious.” Her lips curve. “Though I’ve always been prone to push my limits.”

“I consider it my hobby.” I tap my fingers. “Enough games. What do you want?”

“She’s too proud to explain herself.” Elane looks me in the eye. “So I shall do so in her stead.”

Strength does not always manifest as muscled limbs and iron crowns. Sometimes the most impressive feats are small mercies, visible to none but yourself.

“Rumors have been circulating. I presume you’ve already heard?” She tilts her head. “The Rift and Norta are to be wed.”

“I won’t take her place.” My voice is steely. “My misery is not to be bartered for.”

She clutches the table, knuckles whitening. “I’m asking for empathy. Evie’s prickly, and she makes enemies faster than she can fight them. Please.” Her head hangs. “When you fight her tomorrow, is it possible you could--” She bites her lip. “Go easy on her?”

Mother did not raise me to be taken by surprise. A Cygnet does not hesitate. A Cygnet does not allow her opponent a moment to strike at weakness. She is poised, controlled, omniscient and untouchable as a god.

Still, I hadn’t considered that Evangeline might have bonds as deep as Mother’s and mine. I had written her off as an annoying nuisance, stuffed her into a category so I wouldn’t have to think about her.

Do I do that often?

“I shall consider it.” I rise, leading her to the door. “But I’m not her friend. I’m not her lover. I know my own worth, and I will not degrade myself to please someone who wouldn't do the same in turn.”

A tear glides down her cheek. “What a lovely way to live.”

I shrug. “It’s the only way I know how.”

My dreams do not let me believe this is true.

* * *

I never have the chance to answer Elane’s request. With Maven’s forces approaching nearer and nearer, there’s no time for trivial quarrels and duels. Every meeting brings new pressures to come forward, to declare my allegiance openly and call upon Mother to join me. “I need time to recover,” I claim, and others insist I have taken time enough.

But I haven’t.

It should be easy to write to Mother and explain my predicament. She will not judge me. She will not abandon me. But the words never come, too tangled and fraught to make sense of.

If only things could go back to normal. If only I could return home and be happy, shrug the Calores and their devouring insecurities off like an unfashionable coat. No fear of retribution. No hostile hosts. No prisoners beckoning from their towers, tempting you with puzzles that should not be solved.

I don’t know what I want. I don’t know why I care so much about a conflict which doesn’t involve me, that I’m unequipped to exploit to my advantage.

Queens shouldn’t be this fragile.

Relief comes as marching soldiers and explosives, a rain of death so consuming I cannot dwell on any future but the next moment. The gods are merciful.

“Awfully slow to strike. Then again, combat was never my husband’s strength.” I tie my hair back with a flourish, relishing the cold air against my neck. When have I last been allowed to battle?

Tiberias scowls. His words rise within me, the obnoxious little tirade he spilled when we watched the broadcast together. “War’s not a race.”

_ You never take anything seriously, do you? You talk about pain and suffering like it’s an abstract concept, that you can entertain it for a few hours and pack it away when you’re done. But this is war. This is sacrifice. This is insanity. _

“At your pace, you should hope it isn’t.” At my other side, Evangeline snorts. “You’re growing rusty.”

_ I know you were raised in battle as I was, but your lessons were a lie. Real war isn’t figures pushed around a board, where soldiers are abstracted to numbers which rise and fall without fanfare. It’s not a game. _

_ You’ll understand that someday. _

“Who arranged this unit?” His fists clench. “And why do they hate me?”

“I did.”

“That explains things.” Cal glares at his betrothed.

“Don’t whine, Little Prince. It doesn’t suit you.”

He clicks his flamemakers into glowing embers, a coiled cobra ready to strike. “The battle’s about to begin. You know your position?”

“Yes,” I snap. “You’ve trained beside me for weeks. I’m a warrior decorated as you are, with the discipline and instincts to match. Don’t condescend to me.”

Tiberias sighs. “Serves me right for trying to be nice.”

“I saved you.” I turn away. “You never thanked me.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn--” His eyes flicker to the ground, searching for memories that don’t exist. “Oh.” He softens. “Thanks.”

I sniff. “You were too annoying to waste a perfectly good drowning on.”

Evangeline snorts. “Don’t get cocky. I still intend on dueling you.”

“Of course. It’s been too long.” I flex my fingers. “In the meantime, I wouldn’t mind if you joined my warmups. You’ve come all this way.”

“My pleasure.”

Clouds crackle above, gathering too quickly to be natural. It’s storm against storm, competing to see who can shatter the other’s shields first.

The battle has begun.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins, flowing into the air and leaving as liquid spears. One flick, and an enemy falls. One flick, and our troops advance. It’s intoxicating. After months of dancing around my husband, unsure how to strike, it is a relief to attack without restraint.

Across the battlefield, Father orders his troops from the ground. Water swirls from puddles on the ground rather than the air. His abilities were never as strong as Mother’s or mine, reliant on liquid rather than vapor.

He doesn’t see the shadow glide through the tall grass. He doesn’t see the blade poised at his chest, severing through flesh and bone. He doesn’t see the silver spray he leaves behind, thick and dark, a rain that cannot nourish.

He cannot see at all.

My waves pull me to his side like a current, crossing several miles in a heartbeat. I pay no heed to the soldiers I plow through. No heed to the lines I shatter, the bodies ruined. His empty eyes are all I see.

No.

This can’t be.

I haul Salin Iral by the throat, his weak pleas nothing against the image of Father’s body collapsing into the ground. My thumb bruises his trachea. My tendrils squeeze his ribs.

Far away, they announce victory.

But I am nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thousand views on this, wow


	15. Changing Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You can tell me when it's over  
>  If the high was worth the pain  
> \- Blank Space _by Taylor Swift__

This is not freedom.

My arms are light, the air is fresh, and every movement shimmers with fluid ease. The prickle of cameras is welcome, sparks tingling down my spine. My blood roars, red, fierce and alive, a flood strong enough to bring down the sky.

Not freedom.

“Enjoying yourself?” Maven strides into the garden, gaze snagging on the new crest emblazoned on my chest. Red and purple petals bloom on the same rose, framed by vines lush with silver thorns. Designed to draw attention. Designed to mark me his.

I set the nearest bush on fire.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He laughs. “Leave some of the garden intact, please. The groundskeepers take pride in their work.”

“You’re next.”

“I’m sure I am.” Maven extinguishes the bush with a hiss, taking my hand in his. “Your presence often sets me aflame.”

Don’t blush. You’re better than that. “What a shame you don’t burn.” My cheeks heat, growing warmer as he covers one with his free hand. “I would have made short work of you.”

“Wanna try?”

“In the garden?” I make a face. “Are you trying to incite gossip?”

“Maybe. Who knows?” Maven grins. “Would it be so terrible?” His hand retreats. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no time. Come. We can clean up your mess later.”

_

Without Iris, Maven has a fine needle to thread. Her mother cannot learn she has defected, that she has thrown her lot with Cal and the Rift. But an alliance is useless without arms.

“We need more troops,” he mutters. There’s no council left for him to meet with, no one except me. And I have no intention to be useful.

“Cal said you could find armies in your sleevies.” I smile sweetly, and Maven gives me a murderous look. “What? He did.”

He rubs his temples. “Why don’t you return to your chambers?”

“Because I’m bored and you’re lonely.” I rest my head against his shoulder, suddenly stricken by a wave of exhaustion. “Scratch that. We’re both lonely.”

His hand traces circles against my back. “We have each other.”

I scoff.

“We could contact Piedmont again.” He taps his chin. “A different prince, this time. One more amiable.”

“Last time a prince entered negotiations with Norta, he was murdered.” I pull away, strangely empty without his touch. “We’re lucky they haven’t declared war.”

“Yes.” He nods. “Attacks are often fueled by vengeance.” A wicked smile. A coy nod. “When Cenra learns of Iris’s kidnapping, she’ll rally her subjects without restraint.”

“You’d need an army of Silvers and a miracle to capture Iris.”

“A noxious gas.” He chuckles. “They flooded her room while she slept and stole her away in the night. The Scarlet Guard has never been prone to honor.”

“And this escaped your notice?” I arch a brow. “You took so little care with her safety? Queen Cenra’s not an idiot. She’ll notice how closely my consortship aligns with her daughter’s disappearance.” I clutch his arm. “I don’t need another person seeking my death.”

His eyes dart, hands twitching, a jittering animal trapped by his own reckless ambition. Let him seek comfort in my arms.

“Iris and I spent a lot of time together. We’d complain of you until our venom ran dry, until the conversation softened to something more . . . intimate.” Maven sours, nails digging as if to claim me. “Not that kind of intimate, you cretin. I asked her sister’s favorite painting, what flowers Cenra wove in her hair, what fish her father liked but she didn’t. Little things.”

“Little things?” His hand caresses my cheek, leaning closer. “Do you want mine?” I can taste his breath, cold tea and peppermint. “I would love to know yours.”

Jealous prick.

I press his shoulders. “Down, boy.”

“Later, then.” He winks.

There will be no later. “As I was saying, before your horniness interrupted me.” Maven chokes, and I relish his discomfort. “I know enough of Iris’s life to draft a convincing letter to her mother.”

“A letter.” He savors the word like a tasty treat. “That will be more than enough.”

I don’t like how he’s looking at me. “Okay, out with it. You’re acting really weird right now, and I wanna know why.”

“Consort.” Maven doesn’t blink. “Could we make love tonight?”

“Thanks, that really clarified things.” I scowl. “Since when have we ‘made love’?”

“Since now.”

What is he playing at? Why is he acting so sappy, so vulnerable, so gentle? What does he have to gain? “Why now, then? We’ve formed our habits. We speak our language of pain. Why use another?”

“I feel so happy.” It’s official. He’s lost it. “Ever since you signed those papers, I’ve been so elated. I’m gonna crash soon, I’m sure but for now--” He inhales. “She’s screaming at me. She’s screaming at me, and I’ve been ignoring her, and I want to enjoy it while it lasts. Please. Let me love you.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I’m not.” His hands ghost my shoulders. “I’ll make it worth it. I’ll be so good to you, I promise, just . . . “ I can’t look away from his smoldering eyes. “Please.”

It’s too much.

My curiosity will hang me, but I have to see what happens. He said it would fade by morning, that he would come to his senses, and I believe him. I won’t have this opportunity again.

“Are you a man of your word?”

“Always.”

I let him lead me to my chambers, heart delicate as lace. If this is an act, it is a cruel one. I’ve banished all traces of the Old Maven from my thoughts. I don’t need these uncanny reminders.

I can’t look at him as I undress, yet it is all I want to do. I don't know what I’ll find. I don’t know what will hurt more: clues it’s a lie, or clues it is true. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t.

I will.

Maven folds me into his arms. I am a candle, he is the flame and I melt into sweet oblivion. His voice bleeds in and out, always gentle, words meaningless, lies, beautiful lies I don’t want to remember in the morning.

It might as well be a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . .
> 
> My writing process for this fic may or may not be described as "push a trauma button and see what happens."
> 
> Next chapter is Maven's POV! I've been dying to show it to you guys for ages; it's one of my favorites. Be warned, it's very intense, so prepare yourself.


	16. A Brand New Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Distance, inches in between us  
>  I want you to give in, I want you to give in, oh  
> Weakness, tension in between us  
> I just wanna give in  
> And I don't care if I'm forgiven  
> \- Shameless _by Camilla Cabello__

I wake up next to her.

Sunlight fans across her face, and I feel cold. I know what happened last night. I know it, but I can’t make sense of it. That boy is a stranger, some cursed lovechild of delusion and infatuation. I refuse to become so smitten again.

_Finally. ___

Mother has been waiting. I chill, pulling out of bed like Mare will infect me if I get too close. Or I will infect her.

_Don’t you ever shut me out again. You need my help. I want to see you succeed._

_You are my son. ___

__

Mare sits upright, watching me dress. She was crying last night. She told me not to stop. If I close my eyes, her face spears through me, glazed with melancholic hope. Her skin was so soft.

__

I told her I loved her.

__Love makes you foolish. ____

____

“You’re beautiful.”

____

_____ _

____

My foot catches on a stray book and I clutch the dresser for balance. I fight the urge to look at her, reveal the silver creeping across my nose and cheeks. It’s so casual. Like she’s not talking to me.

____

_____ _

____

I may have started a new game. One I’m unprepared to play.

____

_____ _

____

“Beautiful. Broken. Cruel.” Mare chuckles. “And surprisingly sappy.”

____

_____ _

____

She’ll never let me forget this, will she? “Don’t know what came over me last night. I’m not prone to idiocy. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

____

_____ _

____

“I know.” Hands slip around my waist. “No more bad poetry.”

____

_____ _

____

“I don’t remember any poetry.”

____

_____ _

____

“Want me to recite it for you?” I tense, and she leans into my ear. “Eyes like sunlight-dappled mahogany. Hair like willow-branches with wizened silver buds. Blood like magma, hot and dangerous, scorching your skin in delightful ruin.”

____

_____ _

____

“You’re right. That’s terrible.”

____

_____ _

____

“Isn’t it?” She sniffles. “You were trying so hard, and none of it made any sense.”

____

_____ _

____

“I drank a lot of whiskey,” I lie.

____

_____ _

____

“Strange. I didn’t taste it.” Mare peppers kisses across my shoulder blades, creeping towards my throat. “What about the ‘I love yous’? The reverent touches? The soft cooing? Was that the whiskey too?” She laughs. “It’s a better lover than you are.”

____

_____ _

____

“I never claimed to be a good lover. Only yours.”

____

_____ _

____

Another kiss caresses my jaw, a hint of teeth with no bite. “Didn’t expect you to be. You’ve failed at love so many times. Your father. Cal. Even Thomas.” Acrid smoke burns my lungs. “You’re a monster, not a lover.”

____

_____ _

____

My knees buckle. “So are you.”

____

_____ _

____

Stillness.

____

_____ _

____

Our eyes are hollow mirrors of each other, echoing pain words cannot fathom. The smoke in my lungs whispers his name, and if I cough, it might be lost forever. Her fingers trace the edges of my brand. Is that why she didn’t remove it?

____

_____ _

____

“Maybe I am.”

____

_____ _

____

Her scratched and torn fingernails are mine. So are the shadows beneath her eyelids, her tense stance, the light scars of relief on her arms which will fade by morning. I see so much of my pain in her. “You can be. I won’t stop loving you. I understand.”

____

_____ _

____

“The brand.” Her breath hitches. “Do you know if you want one now?”

____

____Son. What are you doing. ____ _ _

____

“Yes.” It’s the only part of us that doesn’t match. It’s a pain I don’t know, can’t know, and the barrier taunts me. If I must be a monster, I refuse to be a monster alone. _I’m here. I’ve always been here. ___

____

_____ _

____

“You don’t burn. Should I use a dagger?” Her voice is oddly calm, as if she were somewhere else. “Or bruise it with my teeth?”

____

_____ _

____

“Lightning. It’s the safest option. And the most poetic.”

____

____MAVEN SHE WILL MURDER YOU ____ _ _

____

Mother screams and rattles through my skull, but I’m too exhausted to care. Not when I’m in front of someone who understands me to the core. Not when I have a chance to make us even. Not when I can find some sense of balance on the amoral knives I dance upon.

____

_____ _

____

Painful. But cleansing.

____

____sTOp ____ _ _

____

Ssshh. I’ll be fine.

____

____ARE YOU INSANE ____ _ _

____

“Yes,” I mutter, tossing my shirt on the floor. Mare produces a spark between her fingers, stilling. Her hands shake, eyes widening as her breath quickens. I smile. “Don’t worry. Mother’s just kicking a fuss.”

____

____excuse me. ____ _ _

____

“She’s really upset, huh?” Her fists tighten. “Where do you want it?”

____

_____ _

____

“Yours is on the right. Put mine on the left.” I lay myself across her bed, neck stretched and arms tucked away. “Any requests? Blindfold, dagger, I’ll do whatever you want.”

____

____hAnD HEr a DaGgEr THat’S a grEaT idEA ____ _ _

____

“Mother approves.”

____

_____ _

____

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ___

____

_______ _ _ _

____

Mare leans my forehead back to gaze at the ceiling. “Don’t watch. Please.” Her voice wobbles, staring at some point in the distance. “You sure about this?”

____

_______ _ _ _

____

“I trust you.”

____

_______ _ _ _

____

_AAAAAAAHHHHHHH don’t you’re going to get yourself killed I raised you better than this ___

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

“How do you know I won’t kill you?”

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

I shrug. “You could. And you would have to live with that knowledge forever. Your choice.”

____

________son you are smarter than this. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

“Whenever you’re ready.” I close my eyes, gritting my teeth. More pain. More bitter memories to sift through each morning. Like coffee. Or wine.

____

________I WILL SCREAM AT YOU IN THE AFTERLIFE SO HARD ____ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

Mother dissipates into a million sparkling shards when the bolt hits. I can’t move, can’t reach for her, or do anything but stare into darkness. I’m dead. I must be.

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

And I’m in hell.

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

Needles pulse in and out of my collarbone, plunging deeper and faster with each thrust. They bend and break, embedded too far for any healer to remove. My nerves shred. They refuse to die.

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

This is my punishment.

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

A voice drifts within the dark, amorphous and muffled. I don’t need words to make it a taunt; I abuse myself better than anyone else. This is what I did to her. This is how she felt. How I deserve to feel forever.

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

Light dapples my vision, and I blink. Colors slide into focus until they form Mare’s face, ashen with fright. “Can you hear me? Say something!”

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

“Cal sucks.”

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

“Thank goodness.” She lays a palm on my forehead, frowning. “Seriously?”

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

“Were you expecting an ‘I love yo--Ow!” My forehead smarts. “Alright. I deserved that.” A painful tingle remains at my collarbone, and my blood pounds, hot, thick and electric. She did it. I’m marked.

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

“I stopped halfway. You were--You were--” Mare squeezes her eyes shut. “I’m not finishing. Get it healed. Forget this ever happened.” She runs into the hallway.

____

________Never do this again. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

Mother’s voice wobbles, unsteady. _You’ve been fool enough for a thousand lifetimes. Don't fight me. Don’t make me lose you. Please. _A muffled noise punctuates each word, and I realize she’s crying.__

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

I study my chest in the mirror, Mother fading to silence. It gleams silver, raw and fresh, twisting and branching like a weed under my skin. Beautiful. Repugnant. Monstrous.

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

Incomplete.

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

The brand burns anew if I close my eyes, an inevitability. I will carry this pain with me until I die. It will flare every time my eyes snag in the mirror, with every careless brush of Mare’s lips, a companion constant as Mother’s whispers.

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

She’ll finish it eventually. Until then, I’ll keep it close. Heal it, maybe, if she’s willing to start over.

____

________What has she done to you? ____ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

Nothing you haven’t.

____

________Son. I love you. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

That’s nice.

____

________WHAT DOES THAT MEAN ____ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

I lay my head against Mare’s pillow, needles pulsing anew. This brand took me to the worst place I’ve ever been, and I need her to bring me there again. I didn’t stop halfway. She shouldn’t show me mercy.

____

________Maven. Please. _Mother sniffles. _Listen to yourself. ______ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

There are some things Mother will never understand. I comfort her the rest of the morning, soothing her until her voice returns to normal. I have become something new.

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

I hope Mare has too.

____

_________ _ _ _ _ _

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I haven't . . . scarred you for life. *ba-dum ching*


	17. Queen of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _My name is whatever you decide  
>  And I'm just gonna call you mine  
> \- Don't Blame Me _by Taylor Swift__

He’s insane. I’m insane. I’m crumbling to bits and he’s putting me back together, piece by painful piece. A healer of destruction. A monster of kindness.

He’s remaking me in his own image.

I stagger through the corridor, electricity scorching my bones. I still see him. He’s still sprawled across my bed, eyes to the ceiling as I brand him as he did me. Muttering kill me, kill me over and over again until I stop.

Maven has no sense of restraint. No sense of reason. He would have stayed there as long as I let him. Would have thanked me afterwards.

Kissed me.

My knees give out, and I slide down the wall, huddling on the floor. You can be. I won’t stop loving you.

I understand.

Set him on fire. Set me on fire. Watch us turn to ash in the wind, blinding the guilty and the innocent, burning all we touch until there is naught but pain and embers.

Nothing but us.

I hyperventilate, vision blurring to tears. He thinks this is romance. That I enjoy this in the same way he does.

A part of me does. A part of me wants to watch him writhe in agony, too ashamed to make me stop. A part of me wants him to know how it felt at Harbor Bay, trapped by a merciless lover, isolated from all who could help him.

I shouldn’t indulge that part of me. That part of me would rip the world asunder with her spite. That part of me revels in excess.

The rest of me is sane. The rest of me understands his game. The rest of me has control of my emotions.

I won’t let it be otherwise.

_

“I’ve composed several drafts for you to review.” I slide the papers from his desk to his hands. “I’ll need a few more days to perfect her handwriting, but I can mimic her cadence well enough. I hope you enjoy them. Those insults weren’t easy.”

“Lovely.” Maven folds his arms. “Please get out of my chair.”

“No.”

He twitches.

“I was here first. If you wanted it so badly, you should’ve been sitting in it.”

“You’re right.” Maven hovers in front of me. “Move over.”

I blink. “What?”

“I’ll share the seat with you. Move over.” He’s smirking. “Do you not want it anymore?”

This is stupid. “Fine.” I scoot over, wedging myself against the left arm. “You wanna sit? Sit.”

He hesitates for a few seconds before nestling beside me, tense and uncomfortably warm. “We don’t fit.”

“‘Then get up.”

“ _You _get up.”__

____

“Never.”

____

“Excuse me.” An attendant pokes a head through the door, brow furrowing. “Your Majesty?”

____

Maven stills. We must look like fools, trying to fit two bodies in a chair built for one. I point a finger. “His idea.”

____

He surrenders, grey creeping up his neck. I spread across my newly conquered territory, savoring the plush cushion, the regal frame, the rich mahogany. “My chair.”

____

The attendant bows, speaking in rushed, uneven sentences. “The guards apprehended a nymph at the gates. She has demanded an audience with you. Should I--”

____

“Bring her in.”

____

Crap.

____

____

I sweep the drafts into the garbage, heart racing. He frowns. “You want Iris to know about them?”

____

Before Maven can respond, the doors swing open. Arvens may surround Iris, but they cannot keep her contained. Mud streaks her skin, dress torn to shreds, hair sticky with blood. Whose, I never want to know.

____

“They killed him.” Iris’s voice used to be lilting and melodic, like a folk song caught on a breeze. Now, she sounds like a graveyard. Dull. Grey. Lifeless. “I gave them my floods, and they killed him.”

____

“Wife. So glad you could join us.” Maven’s eyes dance with mirth. “Did you have fun?”

____

“Father is dead.” Iris punches a wall. “I will destroy them.”

____

“I’ll take that as a no. Shame.”

____

“What is she doing here?” Iris jabs a finger my direction. No longer does she eye me with coy amusement. She never will again. “Do we allow prisoners out of their chains now?”

____

“Her name is Mare, darling. Use it.” Maven crumples a piece of paper and places it near his flamemakers. “Your mother could learn that the Scarlet Guard killed her husband and her daughter. All the better for me.”

____

“I’ll destroy you too.”

____

“I’m sure you will.” Maven leans against my chair, brushing aside my hair to stroke my neck. Her gaze burns holes into us both.

____

“She’s Scarlet Guard. She’d tear our throats without a moment’s hesitation. I forgot that.” Iris stares at the floor as if it could swallow her whole. “I’ve half a mind to execute her.”

____

He sharpens. “You’ve half a mind, period. She’s my consort now, and you will treat her with respect. Find a guard to play with.”

____

“I didn’t give permission for a consort.”

____

“I didn’t ask.”

____

I squirm. “Do I have a say in this . . . ?”

____

“No.” Iris narrows her eyes. “Why are you in Maven’s chair?”

____

“It’s my chair. I fought him for it.”

____

Maven rubs his forehead. “Don’t ask.”

____

“Find a use for her, or I will make one.” Iris has no tendrils to curl, but somehow she seems more dangerous without them. “Her head would make a lovely present for Mother.”

____

Another death threat. They’re beginning to bore me.

____

“So short-sighted.” He tsks. “You think I haven’t? Think of the narrative. An impoverished Red with Silver abilities, groomed by the Scarlet Guard to kill a king and brainwash another. Rebelling against her commanders once she learned of their evil, she sits at my side for months, friendship giving way to something more. What a beautiful tale.”

____

I knew this was coming.

____

It still hurts.

____

“A boy forced onto the throne too soon, soft-spoken and compassionate, committed to righting the injustices of his ancestors.” Kill me. “Measures lifted. A war ended. And when he falls for a Red, she is declared the equal of any Silver mistress.”

____

“The manacles are a rite of passage, I’m sure.” I scowl.

____

Maven ignores me. “This is a propaganda war, Wife. Reds outnumber us, and we cannot allow them to be lured by the Scarlet Guard.”

____

“Very well.” Her tone is placid. Her expression is not. “Keep her out of my sight. I have limits. Push them at your peril.”

____

“So do I, Wife.” He ignites the parchment. “So do I.”

____

She leaves.

____

Maven slithers beside me, eyes wicked. “Was there something you wanted to do in this chair?”

____

“You can have it.” I pat his head, relishing his disappointment. “Have fun with your fist.”

____

He doesn’t see me fish the letter from the trash. He doesn’t see it as I walk out the room, handing it to a nearby attendant for mailing. And he never read the final paragraph, scrawled hastily as if in a panic.

____

I pray to Amalese for Father’s safe return. Perhaps a vengeance goddess is the worst to ask, but she understands justice better than anyone else. Far better than my husband.

____

I miss you.

____

There is no god named Amalese.

____

There is no god of vengeance.

____

But there are justices Iris would ask for. Ones that do not end well for Maven.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iris next
> 
> Also, a cool thing happened. I also post this story on wattpad, and another user hosted a Red Queen fanfic contest there and I won! It was pretty small, but it's nice.


	18. Never Enough

The fountain feels my wrath.

Every droplet shimmers and pulses, as if the garden is a cage it will destroy in due time. It simmers. It does not explode. It has more dignity than my husband can muster. It has purpose.

Dread is a more powerful emotion than shock.

I saw it in Salin Iral’s face. I saw it every mile I dragged him, screaming and flailing. He begged me to kill me. He begged me everytime I forced water into his lungs and out, never long enough to finish. The fake apologies of a feeble man.

They did not satisfy me. Nor did his death, half a mile from the palace steps, when I couldn’t take his living and breathing and whining anymore. His blood lingers in my hair.

I will not wash it out.

I should’ve torn their castle out from the foundation. I should’ve proven iron rusts when pitted against rain, and a tidal wave washes away the strongest cliff. But I left, and now I sit here in my rage, thrashing at enemies who dine in peace far away while he is gone and dead and gone.

_Father. ___

__He rushes back to me in little moments, terrible little moments I will never let go of. Head pats. Loving scolds. Dares to wade further and further into the lakes. They echo and blur, overlapping until I am far away._ _

__I am back on the battlefield. One of many. No. Many of one. I can see the banners which sailed during the skirmishes of my youth, the scorched debris of Corvium, Father’s battered body side by side with him ordering troops._ _

__I tear holes into the front lines, spear Samos after Samos on my watery tendrils. It’s never enough. Never enough to mend the hole of his absence. Never enough to bring him back._ _

__We meet with Piedmont. I am the whirlpool, the tsunami which crashes over Montfort and sweeps away their captured children. The cyclone which holds a new vortex of power._ _

__Never enough._ _

__Mare hangs at the corner of my vision, always out of reach, always on his arm. I want to rip them both to shreds. How dare he deny me vengeance. How dare he parade her as an ally. How dare he broadcast his affection, his hand on her waist, like she represents the hope of a brighter, more egalitarian future._ _

__Never enough._ _

__Harbor Bay crumbles beneath me. Neither Calore brother will use it. Neither will sit on their pitiful throne, small and pathetic in the face of my flood._ _

__Never enough._ _

__Never enough._ _

__Never enough._ _

__Somewhere far away, Mare offers me an iris._ _

__I won’t let it be enough._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me just casually brushing past almost half of War Storm
> 
> Been combing through this fic and making a bunch of little edits, mostly tightening word choice and sentence structure, but I did make a significant edit to the first chapter today. Nothing changed in relation to the plot, I just wanted to give it a hook. The first few paragraphs were always a placeholder, and I never got around to replacing them until now.
> 
> Next chapter is Mare. One of my favorites


	19. An Eye for an Iris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Living in a world where no one's innocent  
>  Oh, but at least we tried  
> \- Rain On Me _by Lady Gaga ft Ariana Grande__

My fingers pinch around the stem of a nearby flower, splitting in two with a satisfying crunch. Droplets of sap trickle across my palm, but I don’t mind. Anything to feel dirty again. Anything to be common. Anything to scrub the poison away.

I drift towards the center of the garden, ears peeled for the gurgling fountain. She’s here, perched and dangerous on a stone bench, water thrashing across her palms in a violent dance. 

“You’re lost.” She won’t look at me.

“I brought you something.” I present the iris, dewdrops glistening on cerulean petals. “Granted, the gardeners did most of the work.”

“Perhaps I was unclear.” Her hands ball to fists. “ _Get _lost.”__

____

“I’m sorry.” I slide onto the bench. “About your father.”

____

Iris sniffs. “Please. You’re allied with the Scarlet Guard. I’m lucky you’re not celebrating with fireworks.”

____

“I don’t claim to love him.” I rest a hand on her forearm, and she tenses. “But I know what it’s like to lose a family member. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” I pause. “Ptolemus, maybe. I mean, would the world really be worse off without Evangeline?”

____

“You lost your father too?”

____

“No.” I sigh. “Just his ability to walk. I’m grateful. Most don’t leave the war alive.”

____

“ _Didn’t. _We ended it.”__

____

__Unbidden tears fall onto my lap. “Doesn’t bring them back, does it?”_ _

____

__Iris draws my tears to her, forming a tiny sphere between us. It crashes down. “Nothing will.”_ _

____

__“We were always afraid when the mail came. Three brothers meant three boxes of ash, and though we didn’t know the date, we knew they would come eventually. But your gods had other plans.” The words choke, but I press on. “Every week, new wails would echo through the streets. The butcher. The bookkeeper’s wife. A fresh batch of orphans to starve or leech off others worse than them. I always felt a sickening gratitude. Someone had to suffer, so it might as well be them.”_ _

____

__Iris stares off into the distance. “I knew most of our armies were recruited from Red populations. I never thought of what it must be like.”_ _

____

__“That’s why you call us rats, isn’t it? Rats don’t think. They don’t love. They don’t write to their children knowing they’ll never see them again. What’s the difference between us, really? A few gallons of water?” I scoff. “It’s not about worth. It’s about power. Always has been.”_ _

____

__“Who did you lose?” She pulls herself away from the horizon. “If not your father, not your brothers, then who?”_ _

____

__“Shade.” His name still burns of acid. “A magnetron speared his skull in front of me. And when I killed Elara Merandus, her cousin took retribution, weaving their deaths together in a tapestry of pain. Replayed them both hundreds of times, forced me to memorize every detail. I would kill her again if I had too. But I wouldn’t take joy in it.” I grit my teeth. “I don’t celebrate death. Not even the necessary ones.”_ _

____

__“Necessary for who? Your Scarlet Guard?”_ _

____

__“All of us.” I study the grass. “The mothers who received their sons in boxes of ash. The children with numbers instead of names, who bleed for our electricity. And the princesses traded away to strangers for a hollow, loveless marriage.”_ _

____

__A beat passes._ _

____

__“You want to destroy me, don’t you?”_ _

____

__I look up, startled. Iris’s fists dangle at her sides, no longer clenched. Her head tilts, not to showcase her muscular back, but to meet my eyes. Before, they were ominous thunderclouds; now, they’re a dreary mist. “I’d like to destroy you.”_ _

____

__“I would’ve. Once.” Before my capture. Back when I was confused, disoriented, and angry, pouring out my pain with lightning without care whom I hit._ _

____

__“I’m a Silver queen, a warrior from birth. Everything I own, from my gowns, to my palaces, to my jewels, was created by red hands. I must be everything you hate.”_ _

____

__“You are.”_ _

____

__Iris strokes her hair, searching._ _

____

__“But you have a sister who’ll want you to describe Whitefire dozens of times, pestering you for details until you pretend to fall asleep. A new painting to add to her collection. You’ll tell her it’s perfect, even though the castle looks nothing like ours._ _

____

__“A sister who has lost a father too.”_ _

____

__Tears roll down her cheeks. “Stop.”_ _

____

__“You’re allowed to cry.”_ _

____

__She sniffles. “I wasn’t asking permission.”_ _

____

__“No one does.”_ _

____

__“Why are you here? Do you think to convince me?” My sweat turns to glistening shards, all poised at my neck. “Do you wish to play in my head, whispering he deserved to die until I turn to your side again?”_ _

____

__“I didn’t say that.”_ _

____

__“You thought it.”_ _

____

__“Doesn’t mean I meant it.”_ _

____

__“You admit it.” The shards press deeper. “Give me one reason why you don’t deserve to die by my hand.”_ _

____

__I laugh. “Deserve. What the fuck does that mean?”_ _

____

__“It means--” She falters. “You know what it means.”_ _

____

__“I don’t.” I collapse onto the bench. “I thought I did. I thought if you hurt people, if your actions caused the death of others, you deserved to die. But I’ve tried living that way. And it didn’t solve anything.”_ _

____

__“Because you’re a fool.”_ _

____

__“Say you kill me.” Sparks dance across my palm. “Wouldn’t Maven have the right to kill you?”_ _

____

__“That’s not the same.”_ _

____

__“What’s the difference? You love your father. Maven loves me.” I branch my lightning into a fork. “And if he kills you, wouldn’t your sister have the right to kill him? And then Cal might kill her. Your mother him. Then Nanabel her. I could go on.”_ _

____

__“Lovely philosophy lesson. But your hypothetical is absurd.”_ _

____

__“It proves my point.” I take her hand, sparks dissipating. “We don’t address the problem. We direct our anger, righteous anger, at the nearest target in the hopes we will feel better. But we never do.”_ _

____

__Iris squeezes my hand, and for a moment, I fear my bones will shatter._ _

____

__“Silvers aren’t born evil. I realize that now.” I gaze up at the sky. “You know what you’ve been taught. You believe what is convenient, because you trust the people and institutions around you know best. I will fight you to my last breath. I know my people’s freedom is more important than your comfort. But I will not delude myself. I know that if our positions were swapped, I would give you no mercy. And you would fight for our cause as fiercely as I do.”_ _

____

__Silence._ _

____

__Iris relaxes, her water curling into the fountain again. “You’re an interesting girl.”_ _

____

__“I’ve led an interesting life.” I finger the consort rose emblazoned on my lapel, the purple, red, and silver. “Wanna trade?”_ _

____

__She cackles, dusting her gown. “Thanks for the flower.” Storm clouds brew in her eyes again. “ _Lightning Girl. _”___ _

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *swoon*
> 
> Next update is an intensity spike, so prepare yourself. Not quite as bad as chapter sixteen, but it's up there.
> 
> I'll also be posting something else as a surprise.
> 
> Slight edits: added dialogue to clarify Iris's reasoning in chapter seventeen, replaced dialogue in chapter twelve so she seems less callous/omniscient regarding Mare


	20. Delicious Cruelty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised a surprise this update, but complications arose and I'll have to wait until the end of the week. Sorry!
> 
> _I never sent for love, I never had a heart to mend  
>  Because before the start began, I always saw the end  
> I wait for you to open up, to give yourself to me  
> But nothing's ever gonna give, I'll never set you free  
> Yeah, I'll never set you free  
> \- Starring Role _by Marina and the Diamonds__

_Lightning Girl._

No one has called me that in a long time. Not since I was a fugitive, and even then, it was <em> _Little <em>_ Lightning Girl. A taunt, not a title.

“What are you thinking about?” Maven is at my neck again. His breath hitches as he marks another hickey beneath my collar. We didn’t meet last night, and I suppose he wants to make up for lost time. “You’re blushing.”

It was like standing in the eye of a storm, I the lightning and her the rain. Maybe it had been foolish to reach out. Our differences are not to be compromised. But I saw my past self reflected in her rage, and I couldn’t stand idle.

“You in handcuffs.”

It’s his turn to blush. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Ahem.” She’s here again. She’s here, and she can see me flushed against Maven and his possessive, possessive tongue. “Can you not do this in the throne room?”

He sticks his head out from behind the curtain. “No one told you to be here.”

“And?”

“You could leave.”

Iris studies her nails. “I could. But I shan’t.”

“Later.” I pat Maven’s shoulder with a wink. My eyes skate past his to linger on her frame, muscled and soft, enhanced by her blue silk gown.

He notices.

“Yes.” Maven squeezes my hand and doesn’t let go. “We will talk later.”

“About the handcuffs?”

He kisses me, soft and slow, hands drifting below my waist. He might fuck me right here, right now, if it would make her stay away. I don’t know if I should be amused or horrified. I doubt he knows either.

Iris coughs. “I’m still here.”

“You are.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Shame.” Maven lets go, straightening his collar. “You’re a terrible audience.”

Iris snorts. “Would you rather I participated? I do love to disappoint.”

He would never allow it, but if he did . . . _oh_. To weave her hair betwixt my fingers. To kiss her composure away and glimpse what lies underneath. To love another without regret or remorse, lay bare my heart as a present instead of a weapon.

Colors. What is it with me and Silver royals?

“Did you have something to request, or do you consider it your duty to ruin my fun?”

“That is my duty. But yes.” She thrusts an envelope into his hands. “I have been reduced to your messenger. Everyone else was too scared to disturb you. Be grateful I didn’t shred it.”

His eyes narrow. “Have you shredded letters to me before, Wife?”

“I might if you don’t stop treating me with reproach. I secured us that Piedmont alliance. Do not claw the hand that shields you.”

“Careful. I haven’t forgotten the stunt you pulled at Harbor Bay.” A hand reaches for his flamemakers. “Don’t give me reasons to distrust you. It won’t end well.”

“For _you_.” Iris smirks. “I could steal everything you assume is yours if I desired. Never forget that.” She points towards the throne, but her eyes catch on mine. They widen slightly, as if a sunflower seed she'd planted had sprouted deadly foxglove. “Never--” A hitch. “Never forget that.”

He tenses, studying the envelope, but not opening it. “I would like some privacy, if you will.”

She exits.

Maven turns to me, rolling his eyes. “My wife, Mare? Really?”

“I don’t meet many people. She’s kinder than you are.” I sit across from him, gaze cold. “If I could pick, why wouldn’t I choose her?”

“Don’t be a fool.” He grips my hand. “She doesn’t want you. Her interest begins and ends with how she might annoy me, and she’ll discard you at a moment’s inconvenience. I am the only one who loves you anymore.”

Last time I saw Cal, he’d thought I’d gone insane. “The feeling’s not mutual.”

“Your lies have improved, but you’ll never fool me. I know you better than anyone else. Inside.” He smirks. “And out.”

Maven studies my face for a reaction, a blush, a glare, a scoff, proof I care more than I should. I study him in turn. “When the sun’s at your back, you really do look like him. Broader shoulders. Fainter curls. Darker eyes. It’s easy to pretend in the dark.”

He must know I’m messing with him. The logic is too tortured and convoluted to be plausible. But anxiety never cared for reason, and the next hour twitches and sweats in silence. What nightmares has he woven himself into?

I wish I could see them.

“Mare.”

My wishes suck.

“Say my name.”

“Prick.” His hands glide across my neck, massaging my scalp. Goosebumps rise with each breath on my skin and I can barely focus on the whispers in my ear. “Monster.”

“Your monster.”

“Parasite.” A hand palms my breast. “You feed off my rage.”

“How rude of me.” Maven catches a hand creeping up to tug his hair. “I’ve spent so much time breathing you in, I forgot how much I have to give. And how much you want me to.”

I turn, reaching for his face until our lips brush. “Kiss me, Cal.”

Maven tastes me like I’m a poisoned sweet: hungry, pained, and desperate. I stroke his hair with faint, gentle touches. His flinches are delicious. “Say my name. This isn’t funny.”

“Ssshh,” I murmur. “Don’t ruin the illusion. I thought you wanted my love.”

“Not like this.” He grips me as though he might shatter. “Anything but this. This is--”

“Hell.” I kiss the half-M he won’t remove from his chest. “I thought you wanted to burn with me. Forget scars and orgasm denial. This is my hell.”

Maven walks to the door as if in a daze. “Your roo--no. My room. My bed. My hell, empty and void, but maybe if you’re there it won’t be empty anymore and you’llknowmeandremembermeandstopdoingthisandIcanthinkaboutliterallyanythingelse.”

I linger in the throne room, cold and hollow. What was an impulsive stab to the gut is no longer thrilling, but cruel. My hand drifts to the knob. Why hold back cruelties against a monster?

His room is barren as I last saw it. Soft blankets have been pulled out across the bed, but it is still a small, narrow slab fit for a child. Few have reason to come in here. He does not need to put on airs. Arms hook around my back.

“Say my name.” I giggle.

“Stop it, Cal.”

“No!” Maven digs his nails into his arm. “You know who I am! Stop pretending! This game isn’t fun anymore!”

“Play along.” I lay a hand on his waist as if we were dancing. “I’m tired of pretending by myself. Play with me, Maven. Play with my lips, my chest, my legs, the space between them. If I can’t be with anyone else, then let me be with you any way I choose.”

“Fine.” He takes my hand. “Let’s dance.”

I edge closer as we waltz, breasts pressing against his chest. A dip and our lips meet, in tune to a silent rhythm. There was another I kissed while dancing. Another who taught me where to place my hands, how to be spun without falling.

Another Maven watched.

I pop a button off his collar, winking. His hand finds the laces of my top. We make a game of it, trading ties and zips until we both stand naked. His breath hitches. “Shall we dance?”

“We’ll dance until our hearts both break.” I nibble his ear. “And then we’ll dance some more.”

We collapse onto his bed, limbs atangle, whispering the things we could do to each other. Our spots tingle with arousal as we nestle against each other, and I tilt my head to gaze at his face. “You have beautiful eyes.” A kiss on each lid. “Like molten bronze.”

His brow furrows. “What?” He tenses.

“Say my name.”

“Did you forget it?”

“Say my name!”

“You did, didn’t you?” I laugh, bopping his nose. “I’d forget my name too if it had seventeen syllables.”

“Say it.” He won't look at me.

My eyes roll. “Ugh, fine. Tiberias Calore VII, Flame of the North--”

“Stop it.” Maven smothers his head under the pillow. “Stop it! I can’t--” Sob. “Please--” Sob.

“Don’t--” Sob. “Mare, you’re hurting me! You’re hurt--” A crow’s screech claws from his throat, echoing through the room.

I’m torturing him.

Nails dig holes into his face, crescents of unbidden pain. Those are my hands. My hands tearing skin off my own cheeks. Maven’s cheeks.

I can’t move. How did I get here? How have I made a game of tearing holes in his mind? There is no end goal, no greater purpose to his suffering. He’s in agony because I want him to be. Because this sick dance of thrill and horror makes my blood sing. I can gain power by making him weak.

 _Lightning Girl_.

I told Iris death shouldn’t be celebrated, even the necessary ones. Do I believe that, or did I believe it in the moment because it was convenient?

“Maven.” He flinches. “I know it’s you.”

Gently, I pry the pillow from his fingers to meet haunted, hollow eyes. In this bed, he looks more like a boy than ever. Abused. Broken. Crying. He grips my hand like I might save him. Save him from the nightmare I’ve created.

“Hold me.” It’s barely a whisper. Barely a comfort. Maven is used to loving people who hurt him. I was destined to join the list.

He joined mine.

I whisper his name again and again, until his breathing slows and his tears fade. His kisses are so soft and tender they rot me from the inside out, burning holes with each silent confession, each desperate plea. I’d rather he tear me to shreds.

My brand smarts, but so does his. The lines between us smudge to moans, cries, regret, an oblivion with no relief. We are one. We are none.

We will lie when we are done.

I sleep in the crook of his neck, aching and damp. He’s still inside me, too sore to be pleasant, but I need him to stay. I will be half a person if he leaves.

He would be an echo of no one at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit later than usual because I had trouble fitzing with the site skins


	21. Jealous Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slightly late. Had a migraine last night

I am empty when I wake. My hands grasp at air for a boy who is not there, not beside me, but at a desk and chair, fully dressed. My heart pangs. Stupid. Everything feels like betrayal now.

He doesn’t notice me until I peer over his shoulder. The envelope Iris handed him yesterday lays torn and empty, an inked paper unfolded in front of him. There will be no apologies for last night. I don’t know how to make one.

“I’m busy, love.” It’s unsettling, the ease with which he says it. Maven squeezes my hand. “You’ll never believe who wrote us a letter.”

The handwriting is spiked and slanted, written in haste. A tiny stain lies in the corner, a dark silver smudge. I know this handwriting.

So does he.

“How should we reply, love?” Maven smirks. “A taunt? A promise? A threat? Go on. If we’re so alike, you must have no problem detailing all the things we’ve done. All the places we’ve explored. All the noises you make in the dark.”

I snatch the letter, scanning. Cal is more concise than his brother, and gets to the point immediately.  _ This war has dragged long enough. Be a man and meet me face to face. There must be a settlement we can reach. _

_ Are you a man of your word? _

“Well?” I’m going to sew his mouth shut. “I’d like an answer.”

“We have an opportunity to stop the bloodshed. We should take it.” I seal his lips with mine, letting my hands roam down his shirt. A transparent ploy, but one that soothes his ego. “It’s what a king would do.”

“Depends on the king.” We crash onto the bed, arms caging me on either side. “Sometimes strength is a more powerful facade than reason.”

Nails sink into his back. “Please. Like you’d pass up an opportunity to display your consort. You’re a jealous boy, Maven.”

“Say that again.” His breath hitches.

“You’re?” I arch a brow. “That word’s a turn on?”

“Call me jealous.” Maven nibbles my jaw. “Tell me all the things I’d do to make you mine. Tell me how spiteful I am. How petty. How childish. I’m a monster, Mare. You know that better than anyone.”

Another mind game. Will he ever tire of them? “You’re a boy, Maven. You never grew up. You wallow in your petty feuds long after everyone else has moved on. A parasite who feeds off bitterness and hatred.” I bite his neck. “One I can’t pry from my flesh.”

He groans.

“You're not strong. You’re pathetic.”

“I’ve taught you well.” Maven nuzzles my hand, trailing kisses up my arm. “You’re an excellent liar. You even fool yourself.” A hand caresses my jaw. “You want him to see us as much as I do.”

“Wishing doesn’t make it so.”

“You’re mad at him.” His eyes burn. “He judged the monster inside you. He thought you needed to be fixed. Cal can’t resist being the hero. Especially when it lands him a throne”

A bitter laugh. “You can’t resist being the villain.”

“Long as you’re my villainess.” Maven strokes my jaw. “There’s none I’d rather scheme with. No poison I’d rather take. No hand I’d rather die by.” A toss of his shirt, and his brand is on full display. “I’m honored to bear your mark.”

He won’t heal it. He won’t forget it. He’ll keep it on his chest until I break down and finish it. And that moment grows nearer and nearer.

“Iris suits the role better.” I trace the scar. “Maybe she can be  _ my _ villainess.”

Maven pulls me closer. “I’m a jealous boy, Mare.” Hot breaths dance atop my skin. “You love me. Only me. Say it.”

“I can only lie so well.”

“Lie for me.” He grips my hips. “Say the words and think you don’t mean them. Look into my eyes and know I would be telling the truth.” My legs part to make room for his body. “You might surprise yourself.”

The hottest of flames burn blue. “You think I love you.”

“You might.” His mouth meets my ear. “Does it frighten you?”

“Monsters don’t fear other monsters. They destroy them.” Teeth scrape against his collarbone, but he pins me to the headboard. “Don’t test me.”

Maven’s tongue teases the outside of my ear. “All we do is test each other. Think of it as a challenge. A chance to break my heart.”

“I did that yesterday.”

Wrong thing to say. His eyes go wide, grip weakening, staring at my lips as though I could unspeak the words. “You tore me to shreds. And I’m fine with that. I’m fine with that because I love you, and you love me, even if you’ll never admit it. Any amount of pain is worth that.”

“What if I didn’t? Would it still be okay?” My arms nudge him to the side, sexual tension dissipating. “If I loved you, could I do that to you? Could I make your pain my trophy?”

“You love me.”

“Do you know that?”

“Say you love me.” Maven buries his head in my shoulder. “I don’t care if it’s a lie; I need you to say it. Please.” Tears stain my nightgown. “I can’t bear to hear anything else.”

My hands shake. “I--” His ear is uncomfortably warm, quivering as I lower my voice. “I love you. I love you, alright? Stop crying.”

He does not.

Fingers tangle in his hair, drawing our lips together. “I’m here. It’s alright. I’m not leaving. You’re safe.” I stroke his cheek. “There’s no need to cry.”

“You’re right.” Maven wipes his eyes. “There’s no time for tears. Only vengeance.” He buttons his shirt, spite rekindling. “Prepare for the meeting. Oh, and Mare?” His eyes gleam. “The table will be made of silent stone. Remember that next time you’re tempted to torture me.”

He leaves.

Bastard. Of course he broke his promise. He’s caging me again, if only for a few hours. I want to turn his skin inside out. I want to scrape a thousand insults into his flesh.

I want to cry.

Maven assumed I was angry with Cal. In a way, I am. He does not understand my torn edges, nor how I defend them. But more than that, I mourn. Cal is who he is, and it isn’t fair to judge him for mishearing words I never spoke.

In a better world, we could’ve been together.

In a perfect world, we would never have met.

I trace the edges of the letter, studying the smudge in the corner. It flakes against my finger like dried blood, dark silver dust crusting my nails. If I squint, I can make out a word.

_ Bite. _


	22. On Display

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Burnt me at the stake, you thought I was a witch  
>  Centuries ago, now you just call me a bitch  
> \- Man's World _by Marina__

#### Mare

I clutch the arm of my seat as if it were Maven’s neck, trying to steady my heartbeat to a manageable speed. Evangeline sits directly across, head to toe in metal she can no longer wield. She meets my gaze, discomfort shifting to something softer. Not pity. Not admiration. But something in between.

Maven rests a hand at my arm, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course. Who else would he sit across from him, the perfect angle to watch us interact?

Dread pools in my stomach as I meet Cal’s eyes, simmering with frustration, confusion and betrayal. I don’t expect him to understand. The girl he fell for kept him at arm’s length, yielding no scrap of herself without a brawl. I have none to blame but myself.

“Hi.” I smile, summoning all the warmth I can despite the silent stone seeping into my bones. “I hope you’re doing well.”

He doesn’t respond.

“To business.” A man I’ve never seen before sits at Cal’s other side, with Farley to his left. She glares at me with naked disgust. “I suppose I should introduce myself.”

My eyes snag on the Montfortian crest emblazoned on his uniform. He must be of higher rank than the twins, if he is here and they are not. A man who would offer refuge to newbloods, but no one else.

“Please.” Prince Braken sits at the other end of the table, and I must strain to see him. Unsurprisingly, Iris and her mother fill the chairs between him and Maven. “I’m sure you’re eager to boast of how you built this ‘Montfort’ of yours.”

“The people built it, not me.” The man chuckles. “There’s nothing more powerful than the will of a million reds, rising against their masters in a crimson wave of justice. I’m honored to have been able to help.”

At the other side of the table, Queen Anabel frowns. She raised Tiberias the Sixth, carved  _ Strength and Power _ into his bones until Elara Merandus chased her away. What does she think of me?

What has Cal told her?

Queen Cenra waves a hand. “Enough posturing. Introduce yourself.”

“Representative of the Republic of Montfort.” Beside him, Cal stiffens. “Premier Dane Davidson.”

_ Republic. _ The phrase made Cal squirm, and Maven grips my arm like he’s trying not to laugh. I’ve never heard it before. I try to catch his gaze again, but he fixates on the floor tiles. Is that guilt?

“A republic.” Maven savors the word like a lion gnawing a steak. “How intriguing. Is it more convincing to win by a narrow margin, or a landslide? What favors must one make to be placed on the ballot? Tell me, is it possible to declare populations as unworthy of a vote?” His eyes narrow. “Like Silvers?”

He’s so predictable.

“Silvers are our equals, not our lessers. Plenty hold office, and far more are voters.” He folds his hands. “I married one, after all.”

Prince Braken perks his ears. “Hmm?”

“My husband would be distraught had I not mentioned him. He’s quite the character.” His lips quirk. “He told me to send you his regards.”

“I do not care for your personal life.” Cenra taps her fingers against the table. “Were we not here to discuss surrender?”

“Among other things.” Julian speaks from Anabel’s side, and my breath catches. “Your Highness. Congratulations on your new title.”

The consort rose smolders on my chest as all eyes turn to me.  _ You will rise. And you will rise alone.  _ “Thank you.”

Farley humpfs. “What a splendid bribe. How many jewels did it take for you to stay?”

“Commander Farley.” My eyes soften. “I suppose it’s General Farley now. How’s my niece doing?”

“You’re no family of mine.”

“Ladies.” Maven feigns exasperation, and I want to throttle him. “You may squabble another time. We have business to conduct.” My foot finds his under the table and presses. He will pay for this.

He strokes my arm.  _ I’m sure I will. _

“I have questions, actually.” Cal cuts through me, and I wish I were in chains again. That, at least, he could understand. “For Princess Mare.”

Maven clasps his hands. “By all means, Brother.  _ Ask away _ .”

I press his foot harder.

“I imagine we all do.” Premier Davidson regards me with curiosity, not contempt. “I don’t believe this has ever happened before.”

Anabel scowls.

“Princess, huh?” Across from me, Evangeline raises a brow. “You’ve made yourself relevant again. And all you had to was fuck  _ that _ thing.”

If not for the silent stone, her dress would frost to her skin.

I shrug. “We all make sacrifices.”

“Are these questions for my consort, or are we in awe of her existence?” Maven leans back in his chair, one hand propping his chin and the other petting my arm. “She is marvelous, I agree, but irrelevant to the discussion.”

I want to kiss him. I want to throttle him.

Perhaps I shall do both.

“Do you think you can change him?” Julian will not look at Maven. He barely looks at Cal, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “There have been many girls before you who thought their love was enough to save a monster. They all failed.”

He asks this now. Now, in front of Cal, Iris, my brother’s murderer, and so many others. “Lord Jacos. You have not seen me in many months. Do not presume to know my motives.”

“Then tell us.” Cal hangs himself with a rope gifted by Maven. “Why did you switch sides?”

I shift, removing my hand far from his brother’s grasp. “I thought if the Scarlet Guard fails, there ought to be at least one red voice in Norta’s court.”

“Mare’s not a fool, Brother. She knows who the winning side is.” He’s enjoying this far too much. His hand brushes against my leg and I tense. “Who it has always been, and always will be. Surrender while you still can.”

Melodramatic little shit.

“You haven’t heard our terms.”

“Enlighten me.”

Cal hardens. “Surrender, and we will allow you your life.”

Maven twitches, jaw spasming as he barks out a laugh. “ _ Those _ are your terms? I suppose I have no choice but to kneel.” His eyes gleam. “I have a counteroffer. Surrender, and I will give you  _ nothing.” _

He’s lost it.

“Maven, darling.” I poke his shoulder. “They’re not going to accept that. Make a real offer.”

“It is a real offer.”

I lean closer with a whisper everyone can hear. “Sweetheart please don’t turn this peace conference into a dick-measuring contest, I am  _ begging _ you.

Maven forces me back in my seat. “Love, you are a consort. Not a queen.”

“I’m still right.”

“For once, I agree with her.” Iris gives him a sideways glance. “Your pageantry dulls me.”

I smile sweetly. “You used to be so good at diplomacy. What happened?”

“Consort. Wife.” Maven sneers. “You would do well to learn the art of intimidation.”

“Yes, yes, you’re very tough and scary.” I pat his head, curls snaring my fingers. “And you have too much hair.”

Maven sours. “Your nails are too long.”

“Not what you said last night.”

Chuckles rise, and his cheeks darken. “Negotiate yourself, if you’re so clever. You’ll find the rest of the world is not as forgiving as me.”

“Does anyone have a pen and paper?” I look around, all business. “A map too, if you please.”

No one responds. I sigh. “Am I the only one who thought this was a peace conference?”

Iris pulls out her satchel, digging. “I came prepared.”

“I’m not surprised.” Grinning, I accept the papers she hands me. “Knew I could count on you.”

Maven stills. I called his bluff. I chased it to the Lakelands and back.

This conference is mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maven's such a goddamn LARPer I swear
> 
> If you've somehow gotten this far without accidentally clicking the button, it'd be cool if you gave this story kudos. You don't need an account. Also comments! I love interacting with my audience.
> 
> Edits: Replaced Iris & Evangeline dialogue with more natural versions in chapters twelve and fourteen. I really rushed those sections lol
> 
> Surprise drops tomorrow probably, possibly day after


	23. Silent Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Blow all my friendships  
>  To sit in hell with you  
> \- The Louvre _by Lorde__

“Two columns: Up for negotiation, and not.” I draw a line down the middle. “I assume the throne goes in the latter. Unless I am mistaken.”

“Absolutely not.” Anabel sniffs. “My grandson is not intent on giving up his birthright. Tell that boy of yours he may wear a crown, but that does not make him king.”

“You have two grandsons.” He can’t resist.

“Do I?”

“Apologies. I forgot your son died by the edge of Cal’s sword.” Maven chuckles. “Perhaps he should have thought ahead.”

Iris sighs. “That pun was terrible. Make a better one.”

“Let’s not.” Cal grits his teeth.

“What of the occupation of the Rift? The treatment of reds?” I tap my pen. “There must be a compromise we can reach.”

“Reds are not our concern. That we agree on.” I hate this woman already. She dismisses me with a hand. “Pick a relevant subject, or don’t speak at all.”

“Interesting. Would your allies agree?” I gesture to Farley and Davidson. 

She twitches. “We have an arrangement.”

“Hmm.” I purse my lips. “Could you stand against us without their help? Can you afford to make them angry? Because if I were you, I wouldn’t be so blatant.”

Premier Davidson gives me a curious look. Farley pinches her face, fists clenched. I’ll need to fight harder to regain her goodwill.

Queen Cenra sighs. “You do not speak for the Lakelands. I, for one, have no regard for placating insects.”

“I never claimed to. Not once did I offer a Lakeland concession.” I smile. “In fact, I didn’t make an offer at all. Are questions off limits?”

“Enough games.” Maven pins my wrist to the armrest and I’m back, manacled, pressed to his chest as he carries me onto the train. “Consort, you’ve had your fun. I will handle the discussion from here.”

I will tear his heart from his chest and eat it. “Pardon. Did I bind your mouth shut? Is that why you haven’t spoken until now? I must have, if you were not free to interrupt me at any time.”

I shouldn’t have mentioned mouths.

He leans closer, smirking. “Why didn’t you say so?” A hand tilts my chin to his lips, soft as rose petals. Fitting. He has so many thorns. “Think I’ll interrupt you more often.”

I close my eyes. Stares burn from every direction, curious, amused, and annoyed alike. This isn’t a gesture of love, but domination. Everyone can see that.

Even Cal.

Heat pounds my cheeks, but I freeze my expression to a thin line. My eyes roll. “Boys.”

“As I was saying.” Maven sits down, pressing his arm atop mine. “The Rift is not negotiating from a position of strength. The Lakelands and Piedmont far outnumber your forces. Reconsider your terms, and I might show mercy.”

“You forgot Montfort.” I poke him. “That makes us even. And we’ve no idea the extent of the Scarlet Guard.”

He turns sharply. “Consort. Did I say you could speak?”

I sigh. “Again?” With a yank of his collar, my lips hover above his. “You’re subtle as a cat in heat.”

Maven stills, breath quickening. He chokes on his own medicine. “Takes one to know one,” is the best he can manage, pressing our mouths together as his hand snags in my hair. He tastes like bitter wine. An acquired taste

Evangeline snorts. “Get a room.”

He ignores her. Around us, people shift in their seats, caught between moving the discussion along and reveling in Maven’s humiliation. Iris, on the other hand, might snap his neck.

Sense creeps into his brain, as he pulls away, panting. He smooths his expression into some semblance of dignity, though the damage is already done. “Well, Brother? Have you reconsidered your offer?”

I can’t avoid it any longer. Cal burns across from me, a silent accusation bobbing in his throat. He’s half the reason Maven’s control slipped, and he must know it. “Does your life hold no value?”

“Ah. You’re in such a prime position to take it.” Maven cackles. “What else will you offer? A new toy? A warm hug? A handful of breadcrumbs? You’re so generous, I’m tearing u--No. Wait.” He rubs an eye. “Speck of dust.”

Cal flinches. “The rest of court wants me as king. You can’t rely on foreign allies forever.” He softens. “There’s honor in acknowledging you’ve lost.”

“Did you practice that speech in front of a mirror?”

Whatever discussion I’d coaxed from the room has evaporated, silenced by his manacle hands and his kiss and his stupid, petty grudges. He’s wrestled control away from me.

There’s one way to get it back.

My hands shake. It would be cruel. Whatever feeble bridge he’s maintained between us will burn to ashes. But I’ve done so many cruel things already. At least this one will have a purpose.

“Yes.” The mask slides on with startling ease, like a performance I’d rehearsed since birth. A flash of teeth. A haughty chin. A reserved chuckle. “That  _ would _ be appropriate, wouldn’t it?”

Cal stills.

Maven blinks, unable to contain his surprise. He shifts his gaze to me, trailing down my arm to my hand as it moves in a careless sweep across the table.

My fingers brush against the columns I’ve drawn, lingering on a few items a bit longer than necessary. They settle at his side, below the table, hidden from all who might learn the truth. He finds them. And he accepts them.

A silent bargain.

The same bargain we’ve always struck, ever since he sought my arms that tear-soaked night. One we can’t stop making, no matter the sacrifice, no matter the heartache, no matter the distance we retreat from salvation.

I use you. You use me.

And damn the rest of the world for judging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day late, got stuck in an editing rut.
> 
> I'm gonna stop teasing the surprise because the person I've been contacting about it has been unavailable and I'm not sure when it'll be finished. I'll post it when I have it.


	24. Severed Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Second, third and hundred chances  
>  Balancing on breaking branches  
> \- exile _by Taylor Swift ft Bon Iver__

#### Mare

“Could you repeat that, darling? I’m not sure he understood.” Maven leans forward, savoring the horror creeping onto Cal’s face. “At least, I  _ presume _ that’s why his mouth hangs open like a particularly stupid fish.”

I stare Cal in the eye. “Speaking to a mirror would be appropriate, considering your inability to amend your terms. No competent man would have assumed them reasonable. Don’t posture to us.”

He hardens. “So there’s an ‘us’ now, is there?”

“Of course there is.” Maven chuckles. “Lovers often act as a united front.”

Iris coughs. “We’re married.”

“Yes.” He gives her a pointed look. “ _ We _ are.”

Crap. Shouldn’t have thrown her name around this morning. “Darling, I think we’re getting off track.”

“Are we? You’re the one who interjected.” Cal’s eyes narrow. “If you have something to say, say it.”

Maven holds my hand aloft like a prized jewel. “Don’t hold back. You’ve been waiting for this opportunity for months.”

Farley rolls her eyes. If his posturing annoys me, she must be plotting his death as we speak.

My nails dig into his palm. He better hold his end of the bargain. “If you don’t understand how negotiation works, shut up. The adults are talking.”

“I agree.” Queen Cenra rises from her seat, and the tension rises with her. “Let the adults speak.”

Her voice ripples through the room, slicing through any retort I might throw at her. She’s been queen for longer than I’ve been alive. Longer than Cal’s been alive. She was crowned in the same era as Tiberias VI, without a Merandus to alter her reign.

“Did you have something to add, Your Majesty?” Maven is unfazed. “You’ve been silent awhile.”

“Nothing has been worthy of my time thus far. All you’ve done is bicker and moan.”

“Yes.” Maven sighs. “My brother has been quite unprofessional.”

“You’re the one who keeps insulting me.”

“Weren’t we discussing a treaty?” If he draws this out any longer, I’m going to scream. “Not surrender, necessarily, but some terms we mutually agree on.”

“No. Pretty sure this meeting’s about your personal drama.” Evangeline snorts. “By all means, continue. It’s hilarious.”

“Evangeline.” I turn to her, shifting my sleeve to reveal a familiar bracelet. “We were on poor terms last we met. Allow me to rectify that.”

“He gave it to you.” She twitches. “Elane sends her regards.”

“A gift.” I unclasp it from my wrist. “From one princess to another.”

Maven rolls his eyes. Good. Let him think this a meaningless mind game. I don’t need him looking closer, close enough to see the paper peeking between the metal strands.

We’ve already too much to punish each other for.

Evangeline accepts it after a moment’s hesitation, clipping it on with a haughty snort. “I have twice the claim to royalty that you do. More so.”

“Perhaps.” I smile. “It’s not a competition.”

Maven would never grant me concessions if I asked directly. No matter how logical my reasoning, the risk of alienating his allies would be too great. But if I twist them into knives at Cal’s back . . . how could he resist?

Millions of reds. Cal’s feelings.

This shouldn’t be so hard.

“What of our electricity?” I mark the grey factories with red circles. “Surely you have plans to restructure its production.”

Anabel rolls her eyes. “You have a one-track mind.”

Maven gestures to his brother. “Could be worse. There are some who have no mind at all.” He smirks. “But you prefer those people, don’t you? All the easier to manipulate.”

Cal twitches. He’s hit some version of truth, however twisted.

Time to twist it further.

“I hope your grandson can speak for himself.” I rattle my fingers against the table. “His proposal was so flimsy, I’m not convinced it  _ was _ his.”

Maven laughs. “It’s the suggestion I’d make if I wanted to sabotage him.  _ Someone _ doesn’t want this war to end.”

No one moves.

“So,” I hunch over the paper, heart pounding. “About our electri--”

“What about it?” Anabel snaps.

I laugh. “You can’t possibly think it’s sustainable. If you force people to work in clouds of poison, they fall ill and die. And they die faster when their salary doesn’t buy enough food for the month. That factory is a timebomb, and the only reason it hasn’t imploded is thanks to the resilience of your Reds.” I study my nails. “And they’re growing impatient.”

“What of the solution I suggested when we discussed this earlier?” Liar, liar, I wanna set him on fire. He might let me if I asked nicely. “A maximum work week and a minimum wage.”

“Wouldn’t that cause riots?” Cal wrinkles his brow. “The country needs electricity. I’m not sure we could handle a shortage.”

“Difficult as it is to believe, people produce more when they’re rested and well-fed.” I flash my teeth. “I can starve you for a day if you’d like a demonstration.”

Maven smirks. “I’d take that offer. It’s not like you have many chances to spend time with her.”

“A man who shuns change is a child, not a king.” The path to a boy’s throne is through his ego. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Cal has no response.

“Enough.” Cenra glares at us both. “I’m tired of this. Make an offer or don’t. Stop wasting my time.”

“Very well. We are done here.” He tugs my arm, hooking it with his own. “Come.”

My heart pounds. I’d gotten more from this meeting than I had from staying with him for months. Maybe I’d been going about this the wrong way.

Imagine all the things I could do if I worked  _ with _ him instead of plotting his downfall.

Participants get up to leave, and I take the opportunity to slip away while Maven is preoccupied with a fuming Cenra. Farley meets me in a secluded corner.

“You must be real proud of yourself. Parading about your new boy toy. Making us all look like fools.” She leans against the wall. “Savoring the tiny morsels your master tosses you.”

“I’m confused. Am I a duplicitous slut or a lovestruck idiot?”

“A few laws aren't going to change anything. You think he cares about blood equality?” She scoffs. “He’s a Silver king. His interests will never align with yours.”

“What would you have me do, stage a coup and take the throne for myself? I’m working with what I have.”

Silence.

“Do you have any idea what it was like, watching him return without you? Having to explain to Ruth you chose to stay behind?” She closes her eyes. “Hearing your title announced and knowing what it must mean?”

“I made a calculated decision.”

“He’s a monster.”

“Afraid to muddy your hands?”

Farley sighs. “You don’t have to do this. Look at Montfort. We can build a new society, without blood division, without consorts, without kings. Please. Come home. I don’t wanna fight you.”

“Strange. You had no problem allying with the Rift.”

She leans closer. “Cal won’t sit on the throne, not if we can help it. It’s Silver against Silver, and we will rise from the rubble, red as the dawn.”

“How do you know it’ll be you?”

Farley stills.

“Who says another group won’t take power? One far worse than Maven ever was.” I don’t blink. “The public thinks you’re a band of terrorists. You think you can maintain control in a democracy?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’ll take a lot of bloodshed and sacrifice to build the world you want. Who do you think will pay that price? Because it won’t be Silvers.” My voice is steel. “The powerful are never the first to fall.”

“That won’t happen. It didn’t for Montfort.”

“It happened once. Who says it’ll happen again?” I clench a fist. “You hold a lot of lives in your hands, Diana. I would love to see the world you want come to pass. But I won’t sneer my nose at reform in pursuit of utopia.

She twitches. “Don’t call me that.”

“I’m not speaking to you as a soldier. I’m speaking as a friend.”

“My friend is dead. Mare Barrow would never have let him touch her.” Farley’s eyes flare. “He’s broken you, and you’re in denial.”

“I thought you’d understand.” Stupid eyes. Stupid tears. “This is what I’m best at.”

Her eyes narrow. “Shade would be proud.”

I reel. The ground tears beneath me, and I’m at Samson’s mercy, speared and shaking as Shade collapses to the ground.  _ You did this. You did this. _

_ You spit on his grave. _

Arms wrap around me, a sharp voice piercing the noise. “Stick to your ruffians, General. My consort has no need to justify herself to you.”

Warm. He’s so warm and gentle and chaining, chaining and claiming me as his own, branding me on the collarbone as he holds me by the throat at Harbor Bay. Monster. Gentle monster. My monster.

I shiver.

Maven kisses my cheek. “It’s alright, darling. I’m here. I won’t let her hurt you.”

“That’s your job,” I whisper.

He doesn’t disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to rewrite most of this chapter after the last one took an unexpected turn
> 
> Iris POV next


End file.
